O Canada!
by PrinceRoxas
Summary: You know how Canada was both French and English territory? Well, there's a story behind how that happened. As much as I hate FrUK, though I do support the FACE family, I couldn't pass this idea up. It's an AU, rated M for mpreg & foul language.
1. Ch 01

Arthur groaned under the covers and cracked his eyes open a bit. There was a little light peeping into the room from the windows and it only made his throbbing headache worse. He tried vainly to remember what had happened the night before. He knew he'd gone out drinking with Francis after the meeting…and why he'd done that was still a mystery to him. It might have been because he had to give Kaoru (_note: this is hong kong's non-canon human name. Some people of the fandom call him this_) back to Yao. Arthur had been quite reluctant to do so; he'd grown attached to the little bugger, fireworks and all.

The house had seemed empty without him, but Arthur had two other kids to look after. Thank god his good for nothing brothers Ian and Rhys weren't living with him anymore. He couldn't imagine their influence on his kids. Arthur reluctantly pushed back the warm quilt and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The room was cold and he groaned again as a wave of nausea swept over him.

"Ugh, that is it! I quit drinking and I mean it this time!" he said aloud to the empty room.

"Mmh…mean what?" asked a silky low voice from next to him. That sound had Arthur shooting up from the bed and plastering himself against the bedroom wall. He knew that voice far too well.

"YOU! Wha-what the bloody hell are you doing in my bed?" Arthur shouted, pointing an accusing finger.

Francis rolled over and propped himself up on an arm, giving Arthur the most dubious look ever. "What? Can you hold your liquor so poorly that you can't even remember what you did the night before?" His voice wasn't thickly accented, but there was enough to make it somewhat difficult to understand him. Francis yawned, stretching out on the bed.

"I dragged your ass home after your embarrassing display at the pub. You were bawling so hard over losing Kaoru I came this close to slapping you silly. You know, you should really watch how much you drink, it can't be a good influence on Peter and Alfred, and besides-,"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Arthur was livid, screaming at the top of his lungs. He was furious, both at Francis and himself. Just what the hell had he done last night? The mere thought of what it might be was almost enough to make him puke.

Francis shrugged and sat up. He looked back over at Arthur, looking pointedly down. "You might want to put something on before your abusive screaming wakes the children."

Arthur's face flushed red as a tomato and he ducked into the bathroom, locking the door. "Just get the hell out of here before I personally decide to kill you," Arthur's muffled voice said through the door.

"Oh yes, as if you haven't been trying that for years…," Francis muttered. He sighed and scooped up his pants from the floor. "Hmm…should I have told him what we did last night? …oh ho no no, I'd better not. He'd kill me for sure if I did."

He was buttoning the top of his pants when he heard the bedroom door crack open a bit. Two pairs of eyes peered in, then vanished as quick as they appeared. Francis walked over to the door and pulled it open.

"It's alright, children. You don't have to hide." His voice was kind as two little boys appeared in the doorway. "Alfred, Peter, what's the matter?"

Both boys were still wearing their pajamas. Alfred, the older one (about 6 years of age) and little Peter (he was 3) looked up at Francis with wide eyes.

"Mister Francis, is Arthur okay?" Alfred asked. "He sounded angry."

"Naw, he's not angry at you," Francis said, kneeling down so he was on the boys' level. "He's probably just mad at me."

"Why's that? You're a nice person! You give us candy!" Alfred said in earnest.

Francis ruffled the boy's hair, smiling. "I appreciate that compliment, Alfred, but I'm afraid your daddy doesn't see me that way." He stood, picking up his shirt and slipping it on. "I'd better leave before your daddy gets mad again. Bye bye, Alfred, Peter. Take care of him for me."

Francis left the room and down the stairway, then the sound of a door opening and closing was heard. Peter, who wasn't quite able to talk well yet, walked around Alfred and up to the bathroom door. He knocked several times with his little fists on the wood.

"Arfur! Arfur! You...okay…? Arfur…?"

The bathroom door cracked open. Arthur poked his head out and looked down at Peter.

"Peter…Alfred…I'm sorry. I probably woke you two up. Listen, I'll make it up to you! If you both can get dressed all by yourselves, we'll have waffles for breakfast!"

Both Peter and Alfred's eyes widened. Alfred crossed the room and grabbed his brother's hand.

"We can get dressed all by ourselves! Right, Peter?" Peter only nodded; he wasn't sure if he could, but the promise of sticky waffles was enough to make him try.

"Alright then you two, go get dressed. I'm going to take a shower first, then I'll come down, okay?"

"Okay!" both boys chorused. They ran from the room and down the hall eagerly.

"Don't run in the house! You'll trip!" Arthur called. There was another chorus of okay. Arthur smiled, shaking his head. Those two…Arthur owed it to those boys. They were really what kept him going.

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A long hot shower was just what Arthur needed to clear his head. He needed to calm down from that horrible morning shock. What the hell had happened last night? He could usually remember (which was another good reason to quit. He didn't want to be reminded), but this time for the life of him he couldn't. Just how plastered had he gotten? What if Francis and he…

Arthur violently shook his head, spraying water everywhere in the shower stall. No, that idea was absolute nonsense. He scrubbed more vigorously. There was no way that stupid prat would dare try anything like that. Arthur sighed, turning off the water and leaning up against the wall. Knowing Francis, he might have…

There was rapid banging on the bathroom door. Arthur could hear two little voices through the wood.

"Arthur! Arthur! We're all dressed!"

Arthur slid back the stall door. "Good boys. I'll be downstairs to make waffles in a bit." He heard shrieking and the thud thud thud of Peter and Alfred running back downstairs. He smiled again, reached out for his towel when another huge wave of nausea hit him. He clapped a hand to his mouth but that wasn't gonna hold it. He barely had time to get to the toilet before puking his guts out.

Clutching the sides of the bowl, he shakily wiped his mouth. "That bastard…," he wheezed. "He must have given me something…"

Another wave sent his head back into the toilet. After that, it seemed to be subsided. Arthur stood, his appetite suddenly nonexistent. He wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. He had a hand on his stomach, the queasiness still lingering.

"God Almighty, I hate hangovers…," he muttered, opening up the closet and pulling out a shirt and pants. "Why do I always end up with the shit end of the stick? That bearded bastard even got the better of me…"

Arthur slammed the closet door shut, angry again. He dressed in frustration, mumbling the entire time.

"ARFUR!" shouted a voice. Arthur jumped and turned around, still buttoning up his shirt. Peter was standing in the doorway, his jacket hanging on by one sleeve and no shoes. He didn't look happy.

"Oh no…did Alfred dress you?" Arthur asked, chuckling at Peter's misfortune. "Come here and we'll get you fixed up right."

Peter waddled over to Arthur, looking quite mournful. Arthur knelt and fixed Peter's clothes, straightening his jacket and shirt.

"There we go…now, where's your other shoe?" Arthur asked, looking behind Peter. "Is it in your room?"

"…Arfur…do I not get waffles?" Peter inquired. "Since…since I cunna dwess myself?"

"Don't worry about that. You'll get as many waffles as you want. But first we need to find that shoe. Would you go look for me please?"

Peter's eyes lit up, happy that he was still getting waffles. He nodded furiously. "Okay! I'll find it! I'll find it!"

Peter turned on his heel and tromped out of the room. Arthur was close following. Peter and Alfred slept in the same room, since it was a small townhouse. A few seconds later Peter appeared out of his room, holding up a little shoe quite triumphantly.

"See, see? I toldja I'd find it!"

Arthur smiled. "Good boy. Do you need me to put it on for you?"

"No! I can do it myself!" Peter flopped down on the carpet and tried to jam his foot into the shoe. After a bit of struggling, he managed to get it on. He was beaming, quite proud of himself. "See, see? I can do it myself!"

"Hey!" Arthur swiveled his head and saw Alfred standing at the top of the stairs, a pout on his face. "You two are slooowwwpokes! Hurry up already!"

"Alright, alright…now, how many waffles do you boys want?"

"10! Or…more than 10…I dunno…I can't count higher than that…" Alfred said, a little disappointed.

"Shtacked as tall as me!" Peter shouted, jumping to his feet. He pulled on Arthur's pant leg, his signal for wanting to be picked up. Arthur obliged, lifting Peter and setting him on a hip. Alfred ran over to Arthur and started pulling on his pant leg too.

"Come on, come on! Hurry up, slowpoke!"

"Okay, stop pulling. I'm coming, I'm coming…"

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As it turned out, Peter and Alfred were the only ones who ate the waffles. Arthur'd made blueberry and plain, and coupled with melted butter and sticky maple syrup, the boys had made quite a mess. Arthur had just stuck to his morning tea, not really feeling that peckish. His bout of sickness had quelled any hunger he might have had.

Arthur could hear the clinking of silverware on plates behind his paper. He had given the boys three waffles each and more than enough syrup to ensure a pleasant mess.

"Arthur, why aren't ya eating?" Alfred asked in a sticky voice.

Arthur looked over the top of his newspaper. Alfred had syrup all over his face and stuck in his hair too. Peter wasn't much better; he had a napkin stuck to his cheek. He folded up the paper and smiled forcefully.

"Oh, I'm just not that hungry right now. Look at you two! You've made quite the mess of yourselves! You know what that means, right?"

Alfred cocked his head a bit then his eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh no! I don't wanna bath!" He jumped from his chair and took off into the living room. Peter squealed and followed his brother, thinking a game was being played. Arthur took chase.

"Oh no you don't! You little buggers get back here!"

Alfred and Peter giggled and squealed as Arthur dove for them. Peter ran into the couch as he turned to run, falling over in surprise. Arthur leapt at the chance and scooped him up.

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!" Arthur said victoriously. Peter giggled hysterically as Arthur swung him around. "And now…for the other one!"

Alfred jumped and crawled under an end table. Arthur made a snatch for him, but couldn't quite reach.

"Come on, Alfred! You're going to make the carpet all sticky!"

"NO! I don't wanna a bath!" Alfred scooted further under the table, a frown on his face. Arthur sighed and straightened.

"Alright, but you're going to be sorry later. If you leave that syrup in your hair, it will turn into more syrup. You'll be known as Syrup Head for the rest of your life!"

Alfred's eyes turned panicky. "WHAATTT? I don't wanna turn into syrup! Ehhh…" He was tearing up at the thought of his head potentially becoming a sticky glob of brown goo.

"Well, the only way to make sure that doesn't happen is to take a bath," Arthur said, putting a knowing hand to his chin. "But since you don't want to…"

"NO, NO! I'll take a bath, I'll take a bath!" Alfred scrambled out from under the table, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked terrified as he charged upstairs to the bathroom. Arthur sighed, shaking his head and picking the paper napkin off Peter's cheek.

"I hate doing that to him…alright then Peter, let's get you cleaned up!" Arthur hitched Peter up higher and followed Alfred up into the bathroom.


	2. Ch 02

"Oi, now stop slashing me!" Arthur raised an arm to block the water coming at his face. He was already pretty soaked. Alfred had vigorously scrubbed himself clean in a matter of minutes and hopped out. Peter was another matter. He had started crying halfway through the bath and was bawling his fool head off sitting there in the bath water. He still had baby shampoo in his hair.

"Come on Peter, what's the matter? You like baths…"

"UUWWAAAAHHHHH!" Peter screamed, crying harder. Arthur sighed. He turned and called out into the hallway.

"Alfred! Can you come here please?" he called. A minute later, Alfred appeared, dressed in clean clothes. He cringed and plugged his ears at Peter's crying.

"What's the matter with him? Make it stop, Arthur!"

"I would if I knew what was upsetting him," Arthur replied calmly. "Do you know perhaps? You two didn't get into another fight over toys again, did you?"

Alfred shook his head, fingers still stuck in his ears. "Nope. Maybe he got soap in his eyes?"

Peter's crying lessened suddenly and he hiccupped, snorting loudly. "G-g-gone…" he mumbled. "It…g-g-gone…"

"What's gone, Peter?" Arthur asked quietly. "Did you lose something?"

Peter nodded, rubbing his eye with a little fist. He sniffed again. "Bunny…"

"Bunny? What's he mean by that?"

Alfred clapped his hands all of the sudden, a knowing expression on his face. "Oh! I know what he means! I'll be right back!"

Alfred ran out of the bathroom and returned a few seconds later holding a brown stuffed rabbit made out of socks. Peter's eyes lit up at the sight of it and he reached out for it eagerly, all the while shouting, "Bunny! Bunny!"

"_That's_ what he was upset about? I didn't even know you still had that old toy." Arthur said in surprise.

Alfred pouted and pretended to defend the rabbit. "Of course I still have it! You made it for me! And now Peter doesn't go anywhere without it!"

"Ehhhh…Bunny…" Peter was looking like he was going to cry again, so Arthur quickly turned his attention back to him.

"Now now, Peter, it's okay. You need to finish your bath first or your bunny'll get all wet. You can have him after, okay?"

Peter nodded half heartedly and let Arthur rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the water was dumped over his head like he always did. Arthur did this a couple more times to make sure all the soap was out, then reached into the bathwater and pulled the plug on the drain. The water swirled down the drain, quickly disappearing. Arthur picked Peter up and wrapped his terry cloth around him.

"There we go, all squeaky clean! Look, you even squeak!" Arthur pinched Peter's nose and made a little squeak noise. Peter giggled and pulled the towel tighter. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring up at Arthur as he towel dried his blonde hair.

"Bunny?" Peter asked tentatively, cocking his head to one side.

"Oh yes. Alfred, give your brother his bunny."

Peter took the bunny with happy outstretched arms and hugged it tightly. Arthur stood and started ushering both the boys out of the bathroom.

"Peter, let's get you dressed first, then I'd better change clothes. Peter made a right mess of them and we need to go to the grocery store. And don't let go of that bunny!"

"Okay!" Peter said with a smile.

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The early November air was chilly as Arthur unstrapped the boys from of their car seats in the back of his Austin Mini. Both were bundled up with light jackets suitable for fall. Peter held tightly to his stuffed rabbit and Alfred was practically bouncing in his seat, excited to go to the store.

"Can we get candy, huh huh? Can we, can we Arthur?" he asked excitedly.

"We'll see," Arthur replied, unhooking Alfred from his car seat. "You boys stay close, okay? We don't want to get separated, now do we?"

"No!" they chorused, taking Arthur's hands. The three of them walked across the parking lot and through the sliding doors of the grocery.

"I wanna cart ride!" Peter yelled, letting go of Arthur's hand and running over to the cart corral. Arthur followed, reaching into his coat pocket.

"I guess we can get a cart." Arthur said, pulling out a piece of paper. "Let's see…hmm…we need more things than I remember…okay! Up you go!"

Arthur bent over, picked Peter up and put him in the front of a loose cart. He did the same with Alfred but stuck him in the actual cart. He wheeled it into the store, glancing at his list again.

"We need milk for sure. Hmm…some vegetables for dinner and some meat too. What do you boys want for dinner tonight?"

"I don't want any veggies!" Alfred said loudly.

"Mmfishmm!" Peter declared in a muffled voice. He was chewing on one of his rabbit's ears. Arthur gently tugged it out of his mouth and started walking.

"Don't chew on that, Peter. And too bad, Alfred you need the vegetables. They're good for you. I think we'll have chicken tonight."

"Yuck! I hate chicken!" Alfred declared. Arthur turned towards the fresh produce section. He gave Alfred a look.

"And just what would you eat if you had the choice, young man?"

"Ice cream! And cake! Everyday!"

"If you ate that everyday, all your teeth'd fall out."

"But they're already falling out…"

Arthur sighed. He really didn't feel like arguing with a six year old, especially when that six year old was Alfred. This kid could argue your ear off, even when he was losing the argument. Arthur didn't press any further and looked over the fresh vegetables. He picked up carrots, a bagful of green beans and a head of cabbage. Alfred wrinkled his nose up at all of them as Arthur put the vegetables in the cart.

"Yuck. I hate veggies. They taste bad."

"You're going to eat them or otherwise you won't get any dessert," Arthur said sternly. Alfred settled back down in the cart, his arms crossed and pouting. Arthur moved towards the meat department now. He was looking at the sales on chicken when he heard a voice call his name. He turned to see a blonde woman with glasses walking up to him, her long hair braided and a grocery basket on her arm.

"I thought that was you, Arthur," she said, adjusting her glasses. "It's been a while."

"Eh…You're…Catherine _(that'd be Monaco)_ right? Francis's younger sister."

Catherine nodded. "I was a bit worried you wouldn't recognize me. It has been a few years since we last saw each other."

"Mmhmm. What brings you here?"

"I'm visiting my brother for a few days," Catherine replied. "I saw you over here so I thought I'd ask you; did something happen last night? Francis came home this morning looking rather uneasy."

Arthur flinched a bit, remembering the scene from this morning. He supposed he had been a little harsh with Francis, but what else was he expected to do? "Eh…nothing to my knowledge, Catherine. I was pretty wasted last night and I don't remember much."

"I see." Catherine sighed, shifting her basket of groceries to her other arm. "I just thought it strange. I've never seen my brother act like that before. He looked…scared." Her face suddenly changed, darkening. "Though if I know that horny brother of mine any better, he'd have taken advantage of drunken you."

"Oh, no. I don't think even he'd dare try that," Arthur said. But even as he said it, he wasn't sure those words were true. Another sudden wave of nausea came over him and he swallowed hard to keep it from coming up. Arthur felt something tug on his sleeve.

"Arfur…who that?" Peter asked, peeking around his arm to look at her. He was chewing on the rabbit again. Arthur pulled it away again.

"She's Francis's little sister, Peter. You've never met her before because you weren't born when I last saw her. Alfred, you remember Catty, right? She came to your fourth birthday party with Francis."

Alfred cocked his head and squinted at her. "Kinda? I don't remember."

Catherine waved a hand, smiling at the boys. "Oh I remember Alfred alright. Quite the charmer, he was. And his little brother is equally cute! Your boys are quite adorable, Arthur. No wonder my brother likes to pester you. They probably remind him of Seychel when she was younger."

"Hrm…I doubt it has anything to do with that," Arthur said sourly. "He just pesters me for the sake of pestering me."

Catherine chuckled a bit. "Well at any rate, I should be going. Take care of yourself, Arthur. You're looking a bit pale. Don't overwork it, okay?"

She waved good-bye and continued on her way. Arthur put a hand on his cheek, peering at himself in the glass. Did he really look that unwell? Maybe Francis had given him something last night…a cold perhaps? Or the flu? It was flu season after all, so maybe… Arthur shrugged, deciding to not let it bother him. He'd be over a cold in a week, so there was no sense in worrying. He rang for the butcher and ordered his chicken.

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The alarm clock buzzed angrily in the dark room. Arthur slapped the snooze button and groaned. It had been now nearly three weeks since he had woken with Francis in his bed. Since then, the Frenchman hadn't come by. He hadn't even called to pester him at work. It was very uncharacteristic of Francis to avoid Arthur like this. He hadn't been _that_ harsh with his words; just his usual slur of insults and jabs, nothing the Frenchie couldn't handle.

Arthur rolled over, a hand on his stomach. He was feeling sick again, which wasn't much of a surprise now. Every morning he'd woken up sick to his stomach and more times than not had puked. Even during the day, the nausea stayed. He swallowed and sat up, scratching his head. Not even the flu lasted three weeks…this constant nausea was almost like…

Arthur shook his head and stood. The very idea was ridiculous! There was no way in hell that could ever happen, especially not to him. If this was what he thought it was…oh the horrible things he would do to Francis. He rubbed his face and sighed. No sense worrying about things that were impossible.

As he started to get dressed, Arthur felt a familiar feeling creep up on him. He barely made it in time before he puked his guts out again. Arthur leaned up against the wall of the bathroom, his head spinning like none other. This bout had been a doozy; he hadn't thrown up that bad in a while. He swallowed and tried to get up, but ended up back on the floor, still so dizzy he might throw up again. Something had set him off again. Arthur rubbed his face, trying to suppress the urge to puke. He sat there for a few minutes until the nausea and dizziness wore off.

"That is it! I'm tired of this!" Arthur said aloud, more to himself than to the empty bathroom.

He stood, pulling himself up by using the edge of the counter for support. He turned on the faucet, washed his face and brushed his teeth to get the bile taste out of his mouth. As he was blotting his face dry, he noticed that his reflection looked pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. Arthur peered closer; when had those circles appeared? True he'd lately not been getting much sleep, but was it enough to make these appear? He sighed and left the bathroom, still feeling slightly queasy. He finished dressing, tossing his suit coat over an arm. He took one last glance in the mirror, straightened his tie and crossed the hall to the boys' room.

"Come on you two. Time to get up. I'm taking you boys to your grandfather's today."

"Grandda's a grump though," Alfred said, yawning widely. "All he talks about is his days in the military."

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not all he talks about," Arthur said. He poked Peter still sleeping. "Come on Peter! You get to see Grandda today!"

Peter mumbled something and pulled his quilt higher. Arthur frowned and snatched the quilt back. "Come on, I mean it! I have to go to work! Peter! Get up. NOW!"

Arthur put some force behind his last words. Peter groaned and finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. Arthur sighed and turned back to Alfred. "Can you make sure your brother is dressed? I need to call your grandfather and tell him we're coming."

"Kay." He was already getting dressed himself.

Peter sulked in his bed. "Grandda is scawy. He shouts at me awot."

"Oh he does not. Your grandfather likes you both very much."

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"No…no! No no no no no! That can't be right!" Arthur sat in disbelief on the toilet seat, staring at what looked like a digital thermometer. His shoulders dropped and he leaned back, an exasperated hand over his eyes.

"No no no no…gods no! This can't be happening! Maybe it's just a faulty reading…yeah maybe it's just that…"

Arthur reached over and grabbed another one of the boxes he's picked up at the corner convenience store. (Had he ever gotten the weird looks ) He ripped open the box and did the test again. This one popped up positive too. Arthur repeated this thrice more; each time the meter read postitive.

Arthur slammed the latest test on the counter, a hand over his mouth. It…it was impossible…but there was no way all five of the testers were faulty. It was too much of a coincidence…the nausea, the dizziness, the restless sleepless nights…and the time was about right too.

"Damn that bastard…" Arthur muttered. "How…how dare he…"

The boys were still at their grandfather's. Arthur had left work early because he could barely keep his eyes open. Even his boss had said he looked under the weather. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He'd have to get the boys in another half hour. That would be plenty of time to rip that bearded bastard a new one. Arthur pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. It only rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

"Oh _bonjour,_ Arthur! I must say, I was surprised to see your name on my caller-,"

"Cut the crap, Francis," Arthur said icily. "You. Me. We need to talk."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Arthur heard Francis take a deep breath and sigh.

"So, what is, _chérie? _You sound so deadly."

"Oh trust me, you know what I mean. Come over to my place in an hour. We have things to discuss."

"Ooo, an invite? Oh, Arthur I didn't know you felt like that-,"

"FUCK OFF," Arthur said with spite and hung up on him. He jammed the phone back in his pocket, grabbed his coat and headed out the door, still fuming.

Arthur's father lived a few streets away from their little townhome, so the walk wasn't far. Arthur crossed through the nearby park as a shortcut. He stopped a minute to watch some local kids play on the playground. His eyes softened a bit as he watched them. He had his own kids, two boys he loved very much. Arthur shook his head smiling, temporarily forgetting his troubles. He could see his father's house coming up. His father was sitting on the porch, watching Alfred and Peter play. The boys saw Arthur coming and eagerly ran towards him.

"Arthur, Arthur!" they shouted, grabbing onto his pants and tugging him forward.

"Alright alright! Let go already!" Arthur said. The boys didn't pay him any heed. Instead they latched themselves onto his legs so Arthur was forced to drag them. They giggled as he struggled to pull them along. Finally, Arthur gave up and collapsed onto the grass, laughing along with his boys.

"Well, it's good to see you're having fun." Arthur's father exhaled from his long pipe, smiling at his grandsons. His accent was smattered with a bit of Scottish thrown in with his cockney British. "They missed you a might bit."

Arthur sat up, brushing grass clippings and leaves from his hair. "Oh, I can tell. Thanks for watching them again, Dad."

The old man nodded. "Not a problem and besides I look forward to them coming over. They give me a reason to get up in the morning."

"Arfur! Arfur! Lookie! Lookie!" Peter proudly held up a small wooden figure in the shape of a horse. Arthur smiled at him.

"Oh, what's that? Did Grandda give that to you?"

Peter nodded. "He said he made it just fwer me! An' he made one for Alfwed too!"

"Did he now? Well that was certainly nice of him! Don't lose that now…"

"Kay…" Peter held the little wooden horse close. Arthur stood up, picking Peter up along with him. He held out his hand to Alfred. "Come on, Alfred. Time to go home. We're having a…guest over for dinner."


	3. Ch 03

Peter and Alfred wanted to stop at the park to play on the equipment for a while. Arthur would have preferred to go home right away, but he decided to humor his kids. He sat on a park bench watching them play, his mind starting to wander. He still didn't really want to believe it…there had to be some kind of explanation for all this. That damn Francis…just who did he think he was anyway?

Arthur was suddenly jarred from his musings by a loud scream and crying. Alfred was sitting in the pea rocks, crying and his arm bleeding. Peter was crying too, but probably because Alfred was crying.

"What happened?" Arthur asked worriedly, hurrying over. "Alfred, what happened?"

"I-I-I slipped…a-an-and fell…" he said through tears.

"From where?"

Alfred pointed high above him to the tall enclosed slide. It seemed he'd been climbing on the outside of it to show Peter a trick, slipped and scraped his arm on one of the protruding plastic seams where the slide's sections were bolted together. Arthur knelt and examined Alfred's arm. The gash was shallow but it went the whole length of his upper arm.

"How many times have I told you not to climb on things like that?" Arthur said angrily. "You never listen to me!"

Alfred's face knotted and he started crying harder. "I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, Arthur! I d-didn't m-mean it!"

Arthur sighed, feeling drained. "Alfred, it's okay. It's only a scrape, see? But you should really be more careful! You could have broken something!"

"I'm sorry, Arthur…," Alfred repeated.

Arthur muffed his hair and picked him up. "Let's go home. We need to get that cleaned up or it'll get infected. Come on, Peter."

The toddler hurried after his father, trying to keep pace. Arthur couldn't carry both boys at the same time and Alfred was almost too big to carry anymore. He sniffed on Arthur's shoulder, trying hard not to start crying again.

"Well, you'll have a war story to tell your classmates when you go back Monday," Arthur said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah…I suppose so…"

The trio passed under the park's wrought iron entrance gates, crossed the street at the light and came into the row of townhomes. As they approached their house, Arthur saw a sleek navy blue Mazda Miata parked in the driveway. He knew that car anywhere; it meant Francis was already here.

The man in question was sitting on the porch, talking to his 11 year old daughter, Seychel. With bronzed skin and dark chocolate coloured hair, she didn't look anything like her father, who was blonde haired and blue eyed. She looked just like her mother, a native islander from the Indian Ocean. Both Francis and Seychel looked up when they heard Arthur approach. Francis stood, his arms out in a welcoming manner.

"Ah, _mon amie, _you certainly took long enough! With the way you were over the phone, I thought something dreadful had hap-," Francis stopped mid sentence, seeing Alfred's injured arm.

"What the-? Is this-?"

"No, it's not." Arthur said quickly as he pushed past Francis. He reached in his coat pocket for his house key. After a bit of struggling, he got it out and unlocked the door. "Alfred hurt himself climbing on the play equipment, even though I _told_ him not to."

"Oh dear…is he alright?" Seychel piqued, following Arthur into the townhouse.

"He's fine. He just learned the hard way he should listen to his parents." Arthur put Alfred down with a grunt and turned to Seychel. "Seychel, I hate to ask this of you, but could you go patch Alfred up in the bathroom then take the boys outside for a bit? Your dad and I have some things to discuss."

"Oh. Um, okay. He drove like a bat out of Hades coming here from across town, so it must be important." She put a kind hand on Alfred's shoulder, her voice sweet. "Come on, Alfie…let's get that cleaned up…"

Seychel took Alfred and Peter both upstairs. Arthur went into the kitchen just off the stairs, Francis close on his heels.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about?" he asked, taking a leisurely seat at the kitchen table.

"This." Arthur picked up a box from a side buffet and dumped its contents onto the table. Five pregnancy tests clattered across it. Arthur tossed the box to the floor and pointed to them. "I want you to explain _this._"

Francis stared at the things for a bit then gave Arthur a dubious look. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"_WHY THE FUCK WOULD I JOKE ABOUT THIS?"_ Arthur shouted. "You-you just can't take advantage of me like this!"

"I never took advantage of you," Francis said calmly.

"Bullshit," Arthur spat. He was getting angry and Francis's calm demeanor was just making it worse. "What happened that night, huh? How did this-," he gestured at the tests. "How did this happen?

"I don't know. I've only ever heard of this happening in trans-gender men…"

"Well it's happening now and believe it or not, it's _your_ fault and therefore _your_ responsibility. You got me pregnant, you bastard!"

Francis had sat calmly through all of Arthur's ranting but now he stood from his chair. He walked around the table to where Arthur was standing. His face was a mixed expression of total fear and happiness. Arthur found himself recoiling from it. Francis just stood there staring at him. Finally, Arthur hit his boiling point and exploded in a fit of anger. He slapped Francis across the cheek as hard as he could.

"What am I to you anyway?" Arthur said, his voice getting choked. "Ever since high school you've been like this with me…well I'm sick of it, you hear me? SICK OF IT!"

Arthur tore from the room, the tears of frustration welling up. He heard Francis calling his name, but he ignored it. He ran out the front door, slamming it shut behind him and took off down the block. He got as far as the street corner before he broke down. He sunk to the ground, crying from anger, stress and lack of sleep.

"Gehhe…*hic* it's not *hic* fair…ehhhgehhe…"

"Arthur…" came Francis's voice behind him. The Frenchman had followed him. Arthur angrily threw dirt behind him.

"GO AWAY!" he sobbed, his voice thick from crying. "I hate you…I hate you…I HATE YOU!"

"Arthur…," Francis said again. He knelt down in front of Arthur and wrapped his arms around him. At this point, Arthur was too upset to care he was being touched. He just kept crying, staining Francis's nice shirt. Francis kept holding him, not seeming to care about a damp shirt. After a while, Arthur's sobs subsided a bit. Francis pulled away a little. He rubbed away the remnants of Arthur's tears with his thumbs.

"Feel any better?" he asked quietly.

"No," Arthur replied. His eyes were horribly puffy and red. "I still want to punch you."

Francis laughed a bit. "You can punch me all you want if it makes you feel better, though could you do it more lightly? That last slap of yours hurt quite a bit."

"Why you-!" Arthur made to hit him again, but quit midway. He sighed shakily. "What am I supposed to do? I can't…I can't very well do this by myself…"

"Who said you were doing this alone?" Francis asked in surprise. Arthur looked up at him.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Oh honestly…C_hérie_, what kind of father would I be to leave the mother of my child alone to bear the burden himself? Like it or not, I'm taking full responsibility for this."

Francis stood and helped Arthur to his feet. He smiled at him, grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe it quite myself, but it's certainly fantastic news. Oh just wait till I tell Seychel…she'll be thrill-"

"Oh no you don't!" Arthur said vehemently. "You're not telling anyone about this! Nobody can know about this until after it's over!"

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When Arthur and Francis came back into the house, the younger children were giving wide eyed questioning stares. Seychel didn't appear to care; she'd seen these two get into fights before, but there was something odd about this one's fallout.

"Arthur, why are your eyes all red? Did you hurt yourself like me?" Alfred asked.

Francis smiled down at him. "No, he didn't, Alfred. Your daddy…has had some unexpected stress pop up."

Alfred cocked his head, not quite understanding Francis's wording. Arthur was silent still and sulking, glaring at the wall. Francis clapped his hands together, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Okay, who's hungry? I know I am! What are we going to eat?" He turned expectantly to Arthur, who only shrugged.

"I thought we could order out," he said.

Francis shook his head and tsked. "That's no good! How bout I whip something up?"

"Whatever…I don't have much in the fridge…"

"That's fine. I can make do." Francis went to the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. "Let's see…cabbabge…carrots…milk…eggs…oh! Hamburger meat too! Yes, I think I can do something with this! It'd be better than trying to eat your cooking at least."

"Hey, I can cook thank you very much!" Arthur said, taking a seat at the table. "Alfred and Peter haven't died yet, have they?"

"Ah, the keyword there being 'yet', _mon amie._ Seychel darling, can you get the boys cleaned up for supper?"

"Sure, Daddy. Come on boys, upstairs we go…"

"What again?" Alfred protested as he was pushed out of the kitchen. "But I'm already clean!"

Once the children were out of ear shot, Francis spoke again to Arthur. "How is Victoria these days, by the way?"

"How should I know?" Arthur replied, slightly irritated at hearing his ex wife's name. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of her, not since she up and abandoned the boys and me and ran off with that Spanish bastard. Good riddance for all I care."

"Surely the boys miss their mother though?" Francis asked, taking a skillet and glass bowl out of one of the cabinet. He dumped the hamburger meat into the bowl and started cracking eggs into it as well.

Arthur shrugged again. "Alfred hasn't asked about her in years and Peter was still too little to remember her. And I'd like to thank you for bringing up such a painful memory."

"Mhm, sorry…but I remember how you were when she left. You went drinking for three days straight to try and drown your broken heart. You got arrested for public indecency and I had to bail your ass out of jail."

Arthur put his head on the table, groaning. "I'd almost forgotten about that…my dad wouldn't let me live that one down for months."

Francis went back to the fridge and pulled out a container of bread crumbs. He tossed those in with the meat and shredded cabbage in the bowl and started mixing with his hands. "I haven't seen your father in awhile. How's his health? I'd heard he was in the hospital a while ago…"

"Can you cut the small talk? Seriously, it's starting to piss me off!" Arthur said angrily, slamming a hand on the table.

Francis ignored the outburst and started making patties out of his mixture. He slapped a few into the hot skillet. They immediately began to sizzle and the kitchen was soon filled with the smell of cooking hamburger meat.

"I'm serious though," he said suddenly. "I mean to take care of you. I doubt you could handle a third child by yourself."

Arthur made a small noise and looked away. As much as he hated to admit it, Francis had a point. The townhouse just wasn't big enough for a family of four and Arthur was already having trouble making ends meet with only one job.

"Well I wouldn't have this problem if _someone_ could keep it in his pants," Arthur muttered, giving a pointed glare at Francis.

"I take offense at that! I didn't rape you, you know. I mean, you were coming onto me so hard there was little else I could do. It would have been _you_ doing the raping if I hadn't taken the initiative."

"That's still no excuse to take advantage of me while I'm drunk! You know I'm not in my right mind when I drink! You just don't want to admit you're a horny son of a bitch and I happened to be a convenient outlet for you to snap one off!"

"Such vulgarity," Francis tsked again, flipping the patties. "It's a wonder your boys aren't as coarse as you with all that foul language you spit."

"Fuck off, bitch," Arthur said venomously. "I keep my mouth clean when it comes to my kids. Unlike you, I happen to be a good parent."

Francis spun on his heels at that comment, left the patties to finish frying and leaned across the table. He looked him straight in the eye. "Don't you dare call me a bad parent. You're not the only one who's had troubles. At least your children's mother is still alive. How do you think I felt when Seychel's poor mother died in that car accident? How do you think it feels to explain to a four year old girl that her mother is dead? Seychel cried for months after her funeral and there was nothing I could do to make her feel better. I couldn't give her mother back to her."

He sat down in the chair next to Arthur, still staring him in the eye. "But we got through it. Every now and then Seychel cries, but she's become a strong girl. So don't you dare lecture me about parenting."

Arthur shrank from Francis's stare. "S-sorry…that…I shouldn't have said that."

Francis sighed and ruffled Arthur's hair. "It's okay. I know you're stressed out right now, what with this whole mess and such. But you don't have anything to worry about, because I'm here for you."

Francis leaned over and pecked Arthur on the cheek. Arthur's cheeks flared red and he instinctively slapped Francis across the face. He fell backwards and out of the chair. He rubbed his cheek, frowning.

"Oww…That makes twice today…"

"What's the matter, Daddy?" Seychel had returned with Peter and Alfred. "Did Arthur hit you again?"

"Ah, yes. But it's nothing," Francis replied, getting up and resetting the chair in its place. "It's just a reflex with him. Alright, I think the steaks are almost done!"

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The next morning Arthur was awakened to the smell of bread and sausage cooking. It was tantalizing and he found he was absolutely starving. He got up and went downstairs to investigate. He about screamed when he saw who was cooking.

"Good morning, darling! Just thought I'd make up some breakfast for you!"

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?" Arthur asked through clenched teeth, pulling Francis's cheeks.

"OWW! I already told you!" He brushed off Arthur's pinching fingers and rubbed his cheeks. "I'm going to take care of you through this!"

"You can't just let yourself into my home! How did you get in here anyway?"

"The back door lock is broken. You should really get that fixed…"

"Get out. I don't need help and especially not from you!"

Francis pouted a bit. "Aww, come on. Surely you don't mean that?"

"I do mean it! Leave!"

"What are you going to do when your belly starts showing, huh? Are you going to go about like it's business as usual? Get real!"

"I-I'll manage…somehow…besides you said trans-gender men have done this before. It won't look that odd!"

"Want to bet? Those cases are like, five in a thousand, Arthur! It's something that's just not natural!" Francis put his hands on his hips, eyebrows knotted. "If you didn't want me around, you shouldn't have told me you were pregnant in the first place! Face it! You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

"So I'm stuck with you huh? Well fine! I can deal with that! But you can't stay here! I don't have space!"

"I can sleep on the couch," Francis offered.

"For nine months? Now who's the one who needs a reality check? Seriously, you can't sleep on the couch for nine months!"

"Fine! Then how about this; I'll come over on the weekends to run errands for you. I'll even cook for you. You're going to need a special diet to make sure our baby come out healthy and I've seen what you eat."

"Don't say 'our'. It gives me goose pimples." Arthur shuddered involuntarily, rubbing his arms.

"Well it is _our_ baby. It doesn't belong to just one of us. Hmm…you'll need maternity clothes later on too…I wonder how long before you'll be showing?" Francis's hand touched Arthur's stomach area and rubbed it a bit. Arthur flinched and quickly slapped his hand away.

"Stop that! You're acting like I'm a woman!"

"You are as of right now," Francis said with a smile.


	4. Ch 04

It came one unfortunate morning that Arthur got up to get ready for work and discovered something dreadful; his pants no longer fit. Try as he might, he just could not get the button to snap shut. Even the zipper only wanted to zip up halfway. He struggled with it for a good ten minutes before finally giving up. He flopped down on his bed, arms out wide as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me…it's only been a couple months and my clothes don't fit already?" Arthur sighed exasperatedly. "Hmm…I wonder…"

Arthur ducked back into his closet and started digging in a box of older clothes. He had to go all the way to the bottom of the box before he found what he was looking for.

"I hope these still fit…," Arthur muttered to himself as he slipped on a pair of black running pants. They were leftovers from his days in college. Much to his surprise (and his relief), their elastic waistband allowed them to sit snugly on Arthur's hips. But it would only be a temporary fix; it was painfully obvious that he needed new clothes.

"This sucks…" Arthur said, grabbing his suit coat from the hanger on the back of his bedroom door and coming downstairs. He could smell eggs cooking and something sweet too. It was starting to turn his stomach and the last thing he needed was to be throwing up. He poked his head into the kitchen and saw that Francis was already busy making breakfast. Peter and Alfred were sitting at the table, munching away on ham and cheese omelets and glasses of milk.

Francis was flipping crepes on the stovetop and turned to greet Arthur. "Good morning, darling," he said with a smile.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Arthur said irritably. "What did you do, sleep over _again_? I thought I told you I don't need help!"

"And I told you I'm going to take care of you. Now here, eat the nutritious breakfast I made you." Francis put the plate of fresh crepes on the table then noticed Arthur's odd choice of attire. He gave him an up and down look. "You're not planning to go to work dressed in track pants are you?"

"Of course not, you moron!" Arthur said. He picked up the receiver of the wall phone and punched in a number. It only rang a couple times before he heard a female voice answer.

"Hi, Martha, it's Arthur. I can't come into work today." There was a pause then Arthur spoke again. "Yeah, I already told Harry about my health. Mmhmm, alright I got it. I hope Jake'll be fine on his own. Yeah, same to you. Bye."

Arthur hung up the phone and took his seat at the table. He got one whiff of those crepes and immediately gagged. He pushed the plate away.

"I can't eat that, the smell alone's gonna make me puke."

"You have to eat something," Francis said, sitting down at the opposite end of the table across from Arthur. He had his own plate of food. "It's not good to skip meals just because you think it'll make you sick. Eat it anyway."

"Arthur, why has Francis been coming here so much?" Alfred asked suddenly. He'd finished his omelet and held his half empty milk glass to his lips.

"Do you not like him coming over?" Arthur asked, trying to avoid a direct answer.

Alfred shook his head. "No. I don't mind. His cooking tastes really good. But why is he here if you don't like him?"

"Umm…well…you see…he…umm…," Arthur fumbled over the words, but luckily Francis came to his rescue.

"It's because he's having a baby. He needs a lot of special attention."

Arthur thought his face had just cracked because Francis's words were like a rock to glass. He threw his fork across the table, hitting Francis square on the head. "You lousy sot, I told you not to tell anyone!"

"Oww! You can't hide it from them, Arthur! They're your _kids_ for Christ's sake! They deserve to know!"

Arthur threw another utensil at Francis, absolutely furious with him. "They didn't need to know this instant! I can't even trust you with a simple thing like keeping your mouth shut!"

"How can Arthur have a baby if he's a guy?" Alfred asked, confused. "I thought only Mommies could have babies."

"Ah, you see, Arthur's special," Francis said, ducking to avoid another thrown object, this time a salt shaker. "It doesn't matter if he's a Mommy or a Daddy. You're going to have a new sibling."

Alfred wrinkled his nose and cocked his head, still confused. "So…are you going to marry Arthur? Arthur married Mommy when she had me."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Arthur said loudly. He was standing, his face red with anger and embarrassment. "It was one thing with Victoria, but with Francis it's something else entirely! Come on Alfred, it's time for school!"

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"Why are you here?" Arthur asked crossly from the driver's seat.

"Because you're in no condition to drive by yourself," Francis replied from the left passenger's seat. "Especially not with Peter in the backseat."

Francis has insisted on coming with to take Alfred to school. Arthur'd quite nearly run him over as he tried to back out of the driveway. The twat had managed to open the passenger door and scramble inside, barely missing getting his foot rolled over. Arthur hadn't felt like trying to toss him out and Peter was starting to get upset from all the angry vibes coming off of Arthur. After dropping Alfred off, Peter had fallen asleep in the backseat.

Arthur's eyes skirted to the side to look at his unsavory passenger. "I can drive just fine."

"Where are you going anyway? Your house is back that way," Francis said, pointing behind him.

"Because," Arthur said, still irritated. "I'm going to the department store."

Francis raised an eyebrow in a knowing sort of way. "Oh let me guess…your pants don't fit, do they? That explains the sweats," he said with a smirk.

Arthur stopped at the red light and turned to glare at Francis. "What's it to you?"

"Everything," he replied. He was smirking even wider. "Cause now I get to dress you up."

Arthur tried to whack Francis as the light turned green. He swerved but quickly recovered, his cheeks turning pink. "You're absolutely horrid, you know that? I wouldn't even have to but new clothes if it hadn't been for you."

"If you're so opposed to this, why don't you just get rid of it?" Francis said with steel in his voice. "You don't seem to want it in the first place."

"I-I never said that! You know I'd never do that…honestly…"

"Then would you give it to me?"

Arthur groaned as he pulled into the parking lot of Garrison & Sons Co. department store. "You really know how to push my buttons. I might miscarry you know, then what? It's too early to decide what we're going to do after if the baby's born."

"You mean when," Francis said, getting out of the car. "You won't miscarry, I'm sure of it."

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"What is up with these clothes? Why must they be so frilly?" Arthur held up a sky blue shirt that had a v-neck and lace sewn on the neck and sleeves.

"Well, dear, they are intended for women to wear…" Francis said in undertones.

"Hmph. I'm just going get what I need now so I don't have to come back."

Arthur started picking up shirts that were as non-descript and frill free as he could find. He dumped them into the stroller cart where Peter was sleeping. He hadn't even woken up when Arthur had taken him out of his car seat and into the store.

"Don't you need pants too?" Francis asked, pointing. Arthur tried to shush him.

"Not so loud! It already looks odd enough for two men with a child to be buying maternity clothes!"

Francis shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is. You should be proud."

"You're not the one carrying the kid," Arthur muttered. "Let's see you do this and be proud to say it happened. This is embarrassing!"

Arthur rolled the stroller towards the pants section. A wide array was hanging up for display, everything from jeans to dress slacks. There were even pajama pants.

"Oh, you should get the pajamas," Francis said.

"Why?"

"You'll want to stay warm. It's better for the baby if you do."

Arthur rolled his eyes but picked up a pair anyway. He started flicking through the rack, trying to find stuff that wasn't decorated. Almost everything there has some sort of glitter or rhinestones on it. He did manage to find a decent undecorated pair. He didn't say anything more to Francis as he rolled up to the cash register and paid for the clothes. Arthur had tried his best to ignore the stare he got from the cashier, but it was hard. She kept giving him the eye, as if she knew something. She thanked him for the purchase and handed him the bag of clothes.


	5. Ch 05

Arthur was sitting on the couch in the small sitting room of the townhouse reading a magazine. It was one of the many Francis had brought over and dumped on him. Thunder rumbled outside, lightning flashing and lighting up the semi-dark room. It had been a while since a good rain and soon the sky water was pelting the windows.

Rain and thunderstorms didn't bother Arthur; after all he was from the Misty Isle of Great Britain where rain was a daily occurrence. He tossed the magazine onto the coffee table, finished and went to reach for another one when a particularly loud crack of thunder pealed overhead,

Arthur jumped a bit from the noise but shook it off. Another one _crack boomed_! and Arthur heard screaming from upstairs. He leapt from the couch (best as he could, mind you) and hurried upstairs.

"Peter? Are you alright? Alfred!"

Arthur checked the boys' room but it was dark and empty. Another round of thunder sounded and with it the terrified screams came on cue. They were coming from Arthur's bedroom.

"Boys? Peter? Alfred? Are you in here?" Arthur asked quietly, poking his head into the room. He could see two shapes hiding under the covers on his bed. The room flashed again with lightning and the lumps jumped and whimpered a bit. Arthur came and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Are you two scared of the storm?" he asked kindly.

"Not me!" Alfred's head emerged from under the quilt. "Being scared of storms is for babies!" He spoke bravely, but his eyes were scared. Peter was still cowering under the blankets. Arthur leaned over and patted him on the head.

"Peter, there's nothing to be scared of. It's just a little thunderstorm."

"But! It makes so much noise…I dun like it Arfur…"

"Oh Peter…come here…come on, it's okay…" Arthur pulled Peter out from under the quilt and held him close, hugging him tightly. "See? The storm can't get in. We're safe."

The thunder cracked overhead again, this time seemingly direct above the house. Both Peter and Alfred latched themselves onto Arthur's arms, hiding their faces in terror. Arthur couldn't help but smile and sigh.

"You know, I used to be scared of storms too when I was your age, Peter," he said. Peter looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Rwelly? But you're not scawed of anyfwing, Arfur!"

"There are things out there that do still scare me. But when I was little, your Grandda would sing me a ditty to make it seem less scary."

Arthur curled both his arms around his boys and drew them even closer. "Whenever a storm just like this one would rear up, I'd sing the rhyme and it made me feel better."

"Really?" Alfred seemed interested now. "How does it go?"

"Hmm…a little something like this:

"_When the winds blow and make a fuss; just think of things that you trust. When the sky flashes and the rain beats down; just think of things that are of happy sound. Little child of mine, be not afraid; I will protect you from what nature's made. The rain that draws you so close to me; it falls on the trees, the lands and sea. No matter where the winds may bay; just remember you're the center of my day."_

Alfred and Peter sat staring at Arthur as he finished singing. Alfred wrinkled his nose a bit.

"Grumpy old Grandda sung something like that? Really?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes really. Let's try singing it together, alright? All together now!"

The three of them sang the song a couple times, and each time they sang it, the storm seemed to lessen outside. The rumbling became more and more distant and the rain was letting up. It was still raining a bit as they finished the third round. Peter yawned and curled up next to Arthur, his head resting on his leg.

"Mmm…I like that song…Arfur…" he said drowsily. He mumbled something else, but it was incomprehensible. He was soon fast asleep.

Alfred was yawning too. "I still…*yawn* don't understand how you can be having a baby." He also settled down on the bed, his eyes drooping. "You're…just getting fat…in…my opinion…*yawn*…"

It wasn't long before Alfred as asleep too. The terror of the storm had worn them both out. Arthur stroked Alfred's hair, sighing heavily. It seemed he'd been doing a lot of that lately, the sighing. He looked down at his belly, which was getting noticeably bigger by the day. How long had it been now, three, four months maybe? The nausea had died down a bit, but had been replaced with a voracious appetite. He remembered a few of the articles from the baby magazines Francis had brought; this kind of thing was normal. Normal perhaps, but it still sucked ass.

Arthur groaned and gently shifted Peter and Alfred so they were now sleeping at the head of the bed. He pulled the cover over them so they wouldn't catch cold. Arthur paused, sitting on the edge of the bed watching his kids sleep. Their faces were calm, relaxed and absolutely adorable. How much longer before they were driving, getting girlfriends then kids of their own? Children really did grow up too fast…Arthur just wanted his boys to stay like this forever. That way, he would always be there to protect them.

It was a silly dream but as a parent, Arthur couldn't help it. He shifted his weight on the bed a bit, leaned back on one arm and put the other hand on his belly. If only their mother…no. Arthur was far better off without her. It was still painful to remember her abrupt severance of the marriage; Arthur hadn't even known about it until he got the papers to sign in the mail.

Arthur reached over and brushed some hair from Peter's face. Peter was his spitting image, but Alfred looked more like his mother. Arthur was kind of glad Alfred didn't get his unfortunate family eyebrows, but poor Peter...He remembered the ridicule he'd gotten in school for having such wooly caterpillars on his forehead. Arthur suddenly blinked a few times, coming out of his thoughts. What was that?

He leaned forward and put both hands now on his belly. Oh! There it was again! He definitely felt something that time. Arthur rubbed a bit and felt the same movement again.

"Oh my god…," he whispered. Arthur quickly grabbed the wireless phone and started punching buttons. He gingerly got up, so as to not disturb the boys and snuck out of the room, the phone stuck to his ear. Arthur listened to it ring as he quietly closed the bedroom door and went back downstairs. It rang several times before someone finally answered.

"About damn time!" Arthur said irritably. "Answer more quickly why don't you?"

The silky voice droned on the other end. "Did you call me at this time of night just to badger me? I'm working right now, you know!"

"I've got something important to tell you. It couldn't wait."

There was pause on the other end of the phone. "What is it? Well, spill it! I can't take the suspense!"

Arthur swallowed and chose his next words carefully. "I…well, I mean to say is…that…well…I…I felt it move!" He couldn't contain his excitement and the last words burst out.

There was more pausing before Francis spoke again in serious tones. "I'm coming over."

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"There! Can't you feel it?"

Arthur and Francis were standing in the living room that was adjacent to the kitchen. Arthur held Francis's warm hands to his stomach, enticing him to feel what he was feeling. He was so enamored with the first movements that he didn't care that Francis was touching him.

Francis frowned a bit. "I don't feel - oh! There! I did feel it!" He beamed at Arthur, his face twisting into a half smile. "I can't believe it…you…you really are carrying my child…"

"_Your_ child? Excuse me, but weren't you the one who said it was _our_ child? And on that comment, you mean you doubted me? I think I know my own body, thank you!"

"Sorry…it's just…I was in slight disbelief before but not now. There's no doubt in my mind at all."

"Gee, thanks for that note of confidence."

"Have the boys felt yet?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I didn't feel it myself until I was sitting still. They're asleep upstairs. The thunderstorm tired them out."

"Ah, right the storm. I'd forgotten they were scared of thunder. My sister still doesn't like storms. She says the depress her."

"Well I like the rain," Arthur said dreamily, turning away from Francis. "I like how it makes puddles in the streets…I like how the air smells after a fresh storm…I even like the patterns the lightning makes in the sky. I'm really in my element when it rains. Course, that all may be because I'm British."

"Mmhmm…say Arthur…" Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders and rubbed his sandpaper face on his hair. Arthur didn't even flinch. "What do you think it'll be? Boy or a girl?"

"We won't know till it's born," Arthur replied, rubbing his belly and feeling the little kicks again.

"I'd like another girl," Francis said, still hooked onto Arthur. "But a boy'd be nice too."

"Mmh…yeah…"

The pair stood there silent and motionless for a bit, the few remnants of the rainstorms petering out outside. Francis was rocking back and forth, swaying Arthur with him. It smelled like he'd bathed recently, as Arthur could smell his cologne as well as the spices from the restaurant where he worked as a chef. A mixture of savory scents with a hint of peppery spice…that's what Francis smelled like. He got a really strong whiff up his nose and started sneezing.

"A-a-aCHOO! Ugh, jeez get off me! Your cologne is giving me allergies!" Arthur sneezed again as he pushed Francis off and away.

"Sorry," Francis apologized. "I didn't think I'd gotten it on that strong."

"A-CHOO! *sniff* Talk about a mood killer…" Arthur rubbed his eyes and sat down on the couch. "Great, now I'll be sneezing for the next hour…"

"It's not my fault my attractive scent makes you sneeze," Francis said, sitting down next to Arthur. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch and behind Arthur. "And what was that about a mood? Finally falling for me, eh?"

"Pssh, as if! Get away from me, you reek of cheap cologne!" Arthur tried to scoot further away, but there was no more room on the loveseat for him to move. Francis' stretched arm found its way back around Arthur's shoulders.

"I don't think so! Not after feeling our baby move for the first time! I just want to hug you, I'm so happy!"

Francis pulled Arthur closer so that he was squashed up against him, his arms tightly wound around his shoulders. Francis kissed Arthur on the cheek several times as Arthur struggled to get loose.

"Eww! Get off me, you great git! I said OFF!" Arthur pushed as hard as he could against Francis and his grip finally broke. Arthur was released and all the tension he was using to try and get free backfired. He nearly fell off the loveseat from the recoil. Arthur rubbed his cheek clean with his sleeve.

"Gross…now I got your damn frog germs all over me…"

Francis hmphed on the other side and crossed his arms. "I am not a frog. Why do you hate me touching you so much? It's a perfectly normal thing to do in France."

"Yeah well, I'm British and the Brits don't do all that girly kissing and preening!"

"Hmm…if you hate the touching and kissing, does that mean you hate me?" Francis' voice had turned serious. Arthur gave him a weird look.

"What are you talking about? If I really hated you I wouldn't have…wouldn't have…" Arthur cut himself off, staring at the carpet with flabbergasted eyes.

"Wouldn't have what?" Francis asked.

Arthur took a sharp intake of breath, pursing his lips and cheeks flushed. "N-nevermind! It's not important!"

"I'd say it's important. Tell me! Wouldn't have what?"

"No! I've no obligation to tell you!"

"TELL ME."

"NO!"

"You guys are noisy…" said a new sleepy voice. Francis and Arthur stopped their quarreling and looked at the doorway. Alfred stood there, rubbing his half closed eyes and yawning.

"Oh…sorry Alfred…I guess we woke you."

Alfred yawned again and climbed up onto the couch. He snuggled up against Arthur, his eyes closing. "*yawn* Sleepy…" he moaned, burying his face into Arthur's clothes.

"Come on, buddy. Let's go to bed." Arthur heaved himself up off the couch and picked the six year old up, resting him on his hip. Alfred moaned again, but didn't open his eyes. He completely ignored Francis as he carried Alfred upstairs and into his bedroom.

Alfred didn't even stir as Arthur tucked him in. He went back to his own bedroom, retrieved Peter and put him to bed as well. He quietly toed out of the room, closing the door behind him to let the boys sleep in peace. As he made his way back down the stairs, he noticed Francis putting his coat and scarf on.

"Leaving already?" he asked, slightly surprised.

Francis nodded. "_Oui._ I've got the night shift at the restaurant tonight and I need to get back. My break's about over. You should bring the boys by sometime, my treat."

"I think I'll pass. French food never settles well with me."

"Ah well, your loss. Arthur…" Francis shrugged and put his fedora on. He walked up to Arthur, looking him in the face and smiling warmly. "I'm glad you're the one having our baby."

Before Arthur could stop him, Francis planted a well timed kiss full on the mouth. Arthur couldn't react, the kiss was that sudden. It lasted maybe a few seconds, but to Arthur it was like it lasted minutes. Francis pulled away, still smiling. He tipped his fedora, opened the front door and left without another word.

As the latch and lock clicked shut, Arthur began to regain his senses. His face flushed red from the tip of his nose all the way to the ends of his ears. He put a shaking hand over his mouth. A kiss like that was not what his roller coaster hormones needed. Why had he…? He'd never gone that far before! Was Francis just playing with his emotions or was there something deeper to it?


	6. Ch 06

It was mid January and the weather was absolutely freezing. The temperatures had been in the low teens and single digits ever since Christmas and the cold hadn't let up. The boys had thoroughly enjoyed the several bouts of snow, but for Arthur it was miserable. Having to bend and shovel snow with a belly that stuck out a good three or four inches was not fun, especially when it threw off your balance and the driveway was icy. He'd nearly fallen on his butt several times while trying to shovel.

Arthur shivered and pulled his feather down quilt tighter around his face. He peeked one eye out to look at his digital on the night table and sighed heavily. It was nearly 6:30, which meant he had to get up and start getting Alfred ready for school. Arthur rolled over onto his back, the bed creaking ominously under his increased weight. He really didn't want to get up. Mondays sucked.

Just as he had finally resolved to get up, his bedroom door burst open with a shrieking Peter and Alfred jumping up on the bed.

"Arthur! Arthur! It snowed, it snowed!" Alfred shouted, crawling up next to him and tugging on the quilt covering his head. "Do ya think school'll be closed?"

"I have no idea," Arthur said muffidly from under the quilt. "Go turn on the telly and find out."

Alfred frowned. "But I can't read well enough to know…and you said I couldn't touch the TV!"

"Arfur, I wanna play in da snow!" Peter said, settling down on the other side of Arthur.

"Oh for the love of Christ, would you two go back to bed?" Arthur barked angrily, whipping the quilt off his face. "It's 6:30 in the morning, I got barely any sleep and you're not helping my temperament! There's probably no school and even if there is I'm not taking you. Now go away!"

Arthur pulled the quilt completely over his head. He heard the boys quickly slide off the bed and run out of the room, the door slamming behind them. He hated to yell at them like that, but he couldn't help it. His hormones had been on a crazy up and down ride since about the second month and he found himself getting irritated at the stupidest things.

Then there was Francis. He was another story altogether. He was most likely downstairs on the couch snoring, sleeping over when Arthur had told him countless times to go home, pointing out that he was neglecting his own daughter.

"_It's fine," _he had said._ "I've been leaving her with my mother. She's a good girl; she understands."_

"_If you told her…" _Arthur had threatened, but Francis denied telling anyone else.

"_Seychel's a smart girl though. You can't keep too many things secret with her. She'll probably figure it out on her own, if she hasn't already."_

Arthur groaned, his head throbbing from the lack of sleep. He had been kept up most of the night by one of two things; the constant need to go to the bathroom or the lively kicking of the baby inside him. It had been remarkable at first, but the baby kicks had quickly lost their novelty. And then there was the back pain. Arthur's body wasn't designed to carry a baby, so the pressure on his lower spine was worse than if he were a woman. He couldn't take aspirin to relieve it and had had to just deal with it. Needless to say he was getting fed up with it all and he wasn't even halfway through the pregnancy yet.

Arthur heard his door creak open again. He ignored it and pretended to be sleeping. He didn't want to deal with either of the boys right now.

"Arfur…," came Peter's little voice. "I sowrry Arfur if we made you mad…you can have Bunkie. He makes me fweel better when I'm sad."

Peter plunked the stuffed toy onto the bed and plodded out of the room. Once Arthur heard the door click shut, he pushed back his quilt to look at the toy. It was definitely a well loved thing. About the size of a small dog, it was brown in color with white patches on its nose, ears, belly and paws, had large mismatched button eyes and a hand embroidered mouth. Its white parts were stained in several places with god knows what and some of the stitching was coming out on an ear.

Arthur sat himself up and picked up the rabbit toy. He remembered sewing this for Alfred just after he was born. It was amazing that after nearly seven years Alfred still had it and had generously given it to his little brother Peter. Arthur rubbed one of the button eyes with his thumb.

"Oh Peter…you're so silly…I don't need a toy to cheer me up. You and your brother are reason enough for me to smile every day."

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In the end, Arthur still had to get up. He dozed on and off for the next hour then gave up. He didn't even bother to shower; he just didn't have the energy to do so. He barely got through making up a quick breakfast of hash and eggs then checked the morning news. School was cancelled after all, so he didn't have to call Alfred out. At least Francis wasn't around to make his mood worse.

"Arfur, I still wanna play in da snow," Peter said from the table. Arthur'd given his rabbit back (ear repaired) and Peter was proceeding to get egg all over it.

Arthur groaned. "I just finished getting your bunny all clean and nice looking. Put him down."

"No! Bunkie wants to eat too!"

"Peter…"

Peter stuck out his lip and clutched tighter to the rabbit. "No!"

"Fine then, have it your way. When it falls apart and smells like something crawled inside and died, don't come crying to me to fix it." Arthur harrumphed and went back to the morning paper.

Peter looked at his toy, his eyes horrified. "Bunkie _died?_"

"Yeah, that's right." Alfred leaned in closer to his brother's highchair. He was sneering at him. "And you know what else? That's not really egg you're eating. It's fried brains."

"_What?_ Ehhh…" Peter's face screwed up and he started crying.

"Alfred, stop picking on your brother," Arthur said from behind his paper.

"You started it!" Alfred retorted.

"Don't you give me sass or we won't go to the park."

"What? The park? Really?" Alfred's eyes lit up. "You mean we can go?"

"We're not going until you finish your hash. And Peter, stop crying. I didn't mean it and neither did Alfred. Your bunny didn't die and he's not going to fall apart."

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"Alfred, do you have your mittens?" Arthur was in the process of bundling Peter up. He didn't even look away as he zipped up the coat and put Peter's hat on.

"Yes." Alfred said sourly. "But I hate mittens. Why can't I have gloves? All the other kids at school wear gloves."

"Mittens keep your hands warmer. What about your hat?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm wearing it." Alfred had a red plaid hunter hat jammed on his head. It was slightly too big and covered half his eyes. He pushed it up and looked up at Arthur. "Are you done yet? I wanna get to the park before all the good snow is taken!"

"There will be plenty of snow, don't worry. Alright, Peter, you're all set! Now we can go." As soon as Arthur had the door open, Alfred bolted outside. Arthur called after him. "Alfred, be careful! It's-,"

WHUMP! Alfred slipped on the ice under the snow and fell face first into it. He quickly got up, shaking snow from himself. He brushed a little too hard though and slipped again. This time however, he managed to keep his balance. Arthur carefully trod down the driveway with Peter in tow.

"See? There's ice under the snow. You need to be more careful, okay?"

"Okay, fine! Can we go already?" It seemed Arthur's bad mood had rubbed off on Alfred. He was decidedly grouchy this morning.

"Do you need my hand?" he asked gently.

"No. I can manage myself!" Alfred tromped away down the rest of the driveway, walking bow legged to avoid falling again. Arthur shook his head, following closely behind. He was grateful it was winter; his coat hid most of the belly he was quickly gaining. But he supposed it didn't really matter whether it was hidden or not. His gait was enough to give him away. Thank god no one had asked about it yet.

The screaming of children got louder as the three of them approached the park. The snow day had caused all the neighborhood children to come out of the woodwork and winter activities were abundant. There was a snowball fight in progress near the football pitch, some kids were sledding and others were making snowmen. Parents either joined in the fun or stood on watching. Alfred broke away from the group and went running towards the snowball fight.

"Alfred you play nice, you hear me?" Arthur shouted after him. "You get overly competitive!"

"Yeah I know! Hey, lemme play too!" And with that, Alfred was gone.

Arthur looked down at Peter. "What do you want to do Peter? Want to make a snowman?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm not big enough…"

"Why don't you ask some of the older kids to help you?"

"I don't wanna…I wanna make one wif you Arfur."

"Me? But…,"

"Please, Arfur? I wanna make one as big as a you!"

The pleading look in Peter's eyes made Arthur give in pretty quickly. He was hoping to just rest and watch the boys play. He sighed heavily. "Oh alright. We can make one together."

"Yay!" Peter pulled out of Arthur's hand and went running towards a bank of untouched snow. He stopped for a second, staring at something. Then he started waving and shouting. "Arfur! Arfur! Look who's coming!"

"Hmm?" Arthur walked over to Peter and looked where he was pointing. Coming up from the street was the last person he wanted to see right now.

"_Bonjour~_ I'm glad I found you!" Francis was wrapped in a brown leather coat and plaid knit scarf, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold. "I got worried when you didn't answer your cell."

Instinctively, Arthur patted his pockets. His phone wasn't in any of them. "I think I left it at home…what are you doing here anyway?"

"Today's my day off, remember? I run errands for you today."

Peter tugged on Francis' pant leg. "Mister Fwancis, we're making a snowman!"

"You are?" Francis replied, kneeling down so he was at Peter's level. "How big are you going to make it?"

"As big as Arfur! Wanna help?"

"I'd love to! Better get rolling some snow!"

"Okay!" Peter ran a little ways off, bent down and started making a snowball. Francis straightened and turned to Arthur, his hands still in his pockets.

"Where's Alfred?"

"Snowball fight. I just hope he doesn't hurt anybody this time."

"Well you can't help some things. Peter, start rolling that ball!" Francis went over to Peter, who was trying to get his snowball to roll.

"I can't get it!" he whined. Francis bent and started pushing the ball. It got bigger and bigger, until it was the size of a beachball. Arthur watched as they started to roll a second one. He looked down at the snow around him. Suddenly, he got an idea.

"Hey, Frog!" he shouted at Francis. Francis turned at the insult and that was Arthur's cue. He lobbed his fresh snowball and Francis got a faceful of it. Arthur snickered and bust out laughing. "Pfft! Hahahahaha!"

Arthur's laughter didn't last long. He got pelted with two snowballs. "H-hey! No fair!"

"All is fair in love and war, _Cherie!"_ Francis retorted. He threw another snowball but it missed. Arthur gathered up more snow.

"Ha! You call that a throw? You throw like a girl!"

It wasn't long before snowballs were flying left and right. It didn't last long but both Francis and Arthur were laughing by the end of it. Arthur sat down on one of the benches with a heavy sigh.

"Hehehe…I don't think I've had that much fun in awhile. You should have seen your face when I got you with that curveball!"

"Well your face was priceless when you got it twice in the back of the head," Francis retorted. He sat down next to Arthur and stretched his arms across the back of the bench. Peter had gone to the playground when Arthur and Francis had started their fight.

"Look at you," he said. "All covered in snow and practically glowing with health. How are you doing? I take it the baby's been quite the active one."

"Hmph, you can say that again. It kept me up all night with the constant kicking. But I suppose this isn't something that's going to go away, huh?"

"Afraid not darling. This isn't even the worst of it." Francis scooted closer and took hold of Arthur's hand. "You're really starting to show, you know?"

Arthur turned away. "Don't you think I know that? I had to quit my job because of it."

"But what about the boys? What about money for food and such?"

"I've got some savings squirreled away. It's only for a few more months anyway. Once the baby's born, I can go back to-"

"Absolutely not!" Francis protested. "I cannot allow you to endanger yourself and our baby with your foolish stubbornness! Don't worry about food; I'll take care of it."

"But-"

"No buts! You're nothing thinking this through, Arthur darling. You have two children of your own with a third one coming. Do you really think you'll be able to balance a job with three children, one of which is a newborn?"

Arthur looked back at Francis. "I…I can manage…somehow…"

"You are stubborn to the point of being a danger to yourself. This is exactly why you lost Karou! You're only thinking of yourself. I've told you before and I'll tell you a thousand times again; I am here for you. I'll be your support, your crutch, your fallback, your whatever! Don't get so wrapped up in your own bubble that you don't notice what's around you."

"Francis…I…I had no idea you…" Arthur felt the hand holding his tighten. He looked at it then back at Francis. "Francis…you never did tell me. What am I to you exactly? Why do you go to such lengths to look after me?"

Francis scratched the back of his head. "That's a tough one to answer. I guess…it's because you always looked so lonely, even when you were married to Victoria. Hell, you looked even more miserable then than you do now when you were married. And…it's also because you're…my…" He stopped midsentence blushing. Arthur leaned in a bit.

"I'm your what? Francis?"

Francis shook his head. "No, not now. It's not the right time. You'll understand eventually Arthur. Trust me."

"Every time you say that, something bad happens," Arthur said, settling back on the bench. Francis chuckled a bit.

"Well, _Cherie, _you know me. You're just so damn cute I can't help myself!" He kissed Arthur on the cheek, wrapping his arms around his shoulders hugging him tightly.

"Ugh, there you go again! Get off me, Frog!" Francis let go without a struggle, which surprised Arthur.

"What are you two doing?" Alfred's voice snapped Arthur's attention back to the present. He was covered in snow from head to toe, his cheeks pink. Peter faired similarly; he seemed to have joined his brother in the fight.

"Oh, nothing," Francis replied. "You boys all done?"

"Yeah. The other kids ran off when I socked some kid with an iceball."

"Alfred! I told you to play nice!" Arthur said in shock.

"I didn't know!" Alfred protested trying to defend himself. "I swear, it was just snow when I made it! There wasn't any ice in it at all!"

"Regardless, that was a terrible thing to do! And for that, you'll not have dessert tonight."

"What? Oh come on! That's so not fair!"


	7. Ch 07

Arthur turned off the water in the shower and slid back the frosted glass door, reaching for his towel sitting a few feet away on the wall rack. The bath felt refreshing after chasing Alfred around the house and outside for the past hour to get him to sit straight for a photo. Ever since Francis had let Arthur's secret slip, Alfred had become increasingly difficult to deal with. He was talking back a lot more and he had quit paying attention in class. Arthur had tried countless times to get him to understand but it seemed not to matter. He guessed it had something to do with the new baby but it was hard to tell. Alfred hadn't been this ill behaved when Peter'd come around.

Arthur stepped out of the shower, wrapping his towel around his hips. He took another towel and started drying his bushy blonde hair. He paused a moment to look at himself in the mirror (he had to wipe the bath fog from it first). His eye circles looked darker and his whole face seemed drained. His eyes drifted down to his belly, which protruded quite noticeably now over his towel. There was no way to hide it anymore and any attempt to do so was just sad.

Francis had actually been quite useful in the last two months. He'd puffed and fretted and all sorts of other things, even becoming overly affectionate at times. He was acting like a doting husband on his wife. Arthur shivered at the thought, but the extra help was nice. He had become increasingly unable to keep up with the boys, his added weight and fatigue slowing him down. Francis had been staying over so much lately that Arthur had resigned to letting him share his bed occasionally. It didn't seem right to make him keep sleeping on the couch like that. The Frenchman made no moves on Arthur though, which he half expected him to do. He seemed to have a respect for Arthur now that was never there before. Arthur found the whole situation to be rather ridiculous…but he couldn't deny he kind of liked it.

Arthur took off his towel to finish drying himself. He stopped again, staring. He put a hand on his belly, feeling fresh kicks he'd gotten used to in past weeks. It was all still so hard to believe, even four months into it. What a wonder…and to think he was going to get even bigger than this…oh this couldn't be good for his libido.

His mind wandered while he finished up and got dressed. He held up in disdain one of the shirts Francis had bought for him. It was hunter green and very feminine with bits of ruffle on the collar and sleeves. Arthur put it on despite this; it didn't matter anyway since he wasn't going anywhere. But this whole bit of self-isolation was driving him up the wall. He needed to get out of the house, even if for a bit.

Arthur tied the band tautly in the back, its empire waist only emphasizing his growing belly. He sighed. He couldn't help the way he looked. It was unnatural to begin with but he was hardly the person to abandon something halfway through. Arthur made his way downstairs and into the empty kitchen. Francis had gone to pick up Alfred and Seychel from school and wouldn't be back for a while. Arthur opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Ever since about the third month he'd had the munchies like crazy. He picked up a bag of mini carrots and started munching.

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Arthur heard the front door open and he poked his head around the corner. Peter and Alfred came shrieking into the house, closely followed by Francis and Seychel. Arthur had the remainder of the carrots stuck in his cheeks as his legs were tackled by his kids.

"Arthur! Arthur! Guess what, guess what?" Alfred asked in excitement. Arthur hadn't seen him this happy in days. "Oh, it's great! Wait till you hear!"

"What already? Alfred, stop pulling on me, you're going to pull my trousers off!"

Alfred seemed so excited by whatever the news was he couldn't form straight words. He just stood there bouncing up and down grinning from ear to ear. Arthur looked at Francis with a questioning glance.

"What's he got antsy pants for?" he asked.

Francis set his coat up on the foyer's rack and walked closer to Arthur's position. He leaned in and pecked Arthur on the cheek. "Mmm…you seem to get bigger every time I see you…and ever more radiant."

"Shut up! And would you quit that?" Arthur said, pushing Francis' hands away. "It gives me the creeps every time you say that!"

Arthur heard Seychel giggle from the front door. She was smiling at Arthur and Francis. "You two are so funny! You banter like an old married couple!"

"No we don't!" both Arthur and Francis said in unison. They looked at each other in surprise. Seychel giggled again.

"See? You two are so in tune with each other! It's so cute!"

Arthur was about to make another comment when Francis quickly interjected. "My mother has invited us to her beach home for the Valentine's weekend."

"So what? The old bat does that every year," Arthur said with spite.

"I will forgive that comment since you're carrying my child, but this year is special. She wants you and the boys to come along too, Arthur."

"What? Oh, no I am not going to that rumor monger's house! You know she's the worst gossip in town! What's she going to say when she sees _this_?" Arthur pointed to his stomach as he said it.

"Nothing," Francis shrugged. "She's known for a few months now. Actually, she specifically wanted you to come, Arthur. She wanted to congratulate us properly."

"To hell with that! I'm staying put right here!"

"Oh please, you know you want to go. You've been fidgety ever since you cooped yourself up in the house a few weeks ago. You want out. I know it."

"No!"

"Aw, please Arthur? I've never been to the beach before!" Alfred pleaded. He was giving him the puppy dog eyes. Even Peter was laying on the honey. Arthur sighed and shook his head in defeat.

"Fine, I'll go. But I'm not going out on the beach if there're people!"

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There wasn't beginning to be enough room in either the Miata or the Mini to fit five people, so they had decided to just take both cars. Francis was in the process of loading up Arthur's Mini with the boys' luggage when Arthur came out of the townhouse towing his own bag.

"My back hurts, my feet hurt…everything hurts…," he complained, handing the bag over. "And I still have four more months of this too…"

"Would you like me to give you a back massage?" Francis asked, closing the hatchback of the Mini. "I know a really good one I used to use on Seychel's mother."

"I will take you up on that actually. My back is killing me…and by the way, how exactly did your mother find out about us?" Arthur asked, giving him the eye.

Francis' eyes darted a bit from side to side. "Um…well…it…may have slipped…during one of our conversations…"

"Grr, I knew it! The whole city probably knows by now!"

Francis held up his hands in defense. "No no, don't worry! I made her promise not to say anything on my father's grave! She's kept it quiet, I swear!"

"It'd better be…," Arthur said threateningly. "Remember what happened last time that rumor weed got hold of sensitive information?"

"Yes, I remember. But you know Arthur, I'm glad you're coming. I don't think I could stand being away from you the entire weekend."

"Oh shut up. You're just saying that to make me feel guilty."

"No I'm not. I mean it." He closed the hatch back of the Mini and pecked Arthur quickly on the lips. He darted away before Arthur could hit him again and got into his Miata. He rolled down the window and shouted at Arthur.

"Just follow me! If you get lost, call my cell!"

"Yeah yeah I know! Now get out of the way so I can back out!" Arthur got into his car and had to adjust the steering wheel to accommodate his belly. Alfred and Peter were already strapped into their car seats.

"Oh boy the beach! I've never seen the beach before! Arthur, have you seen it? What's it like?" Alfred was bouncing up and down in his car seat, bombarding Arthur with questions as he backed out of the driveway and started to follow Francis.

"Yes, Alfred I've been to the beach," he said, making a left turn at the street's light. "I grew up on the coast in Brighton, England."

"Really? Was it sandy like beaches on TV?"

"No. Most of England's beaches are rocky, but there are a few sand ones. There's even a beach that has black sand!"

"Oooo, really? Are we going to see black sand, huh Arthur? Are we?"

"I don't think so Alfred. That beach is very far away."

"Awww…," Alfred's voice was full of disappointment. "But I wanna see black sand!"

"Perhaps when you're older we'll go to Brighton. We'll make it a holiday, what do you say?"

"But I wanna see it now!" Alfred whined.

"Arfur, how long it gonna take?" Peter asked, finally getting a word in inch wise. Arthur looked in his rear view mirror at Peter sitting in his car seat.

"I don't know Peter. I've never been to Mrs. Bonnefoy's house before."

"Who's that?" Alfred asked. He seemed to be full of questions today.

"She's Francis' mother, Alfred. His surname is Bonnefoy."

"Ohhhh…you mean like how ours is Kirkland? I thought everybody had the same last name."

Arthur tsked and looked at the back seat again. "Now really, why would you think that? If everybody in the world had the same surname, no one would know who anybody is!"

"There are three kids in my class who have the same last name. Does that mean they're related?"

"Probably not. It just means that they have a very common surname."

"But you just said everybody's last name is different!" Alfred was starting to argue and Arthur did not want to get involved with that.

"Alfred, don't start arguing with me. I'm in no mood to banter with you today. You boys want to listen to something?"

"Crazy Otter!" Peter shouted. "I want Crazy Otter!"

"No way, we listened to that last time! I want the Wiggles!"

A shouting match started between Alfred and Peter, Crazy Otter and Wiggles going back and forth. Arthur had to raise his voice to be heard.

"Alright, that's enough! Since neither of you can agree, I'll pick something. We're going to listen to Secret Garden."

"But that always puts me to sleep!" Alfred tried to protest as Arthur popped the CD into the player.

"Good. Then you can be all rested to have fun on the beach."

Alfred crossed his arms and pouted as the soft Irish inspired music started to play. "Won't matter…You're too scared to go out and play with me anyway," he muttered under his breath.

Arthur had to get onto the freeway in order to keep pace with Francis. The little Mazda was faster than his Mini, so he lost him a couple times. Luckily, he sort of knew where he was going and he managed to find Francis again fairly quickly. As Alfred had predicted, the soft instrumental music had put both his brother and himself to sleep. Arthur only had the sound of the music and the engine to keep him company.

Arthur hummed to himself as he followed Francis onto an exit ramp. Since he was sitting still, he could feel more of the baby kicks than usual. They didn't happen too often though and were pretty subdued versus when he was trying to sleep. Maybe his baby was nocturnal?

The air was slightly warmer here by the ocean, of which Arthur could see from the road and there wasn't any snow. Short stretches of beach were broken up by bungalows, cliffs and forests, all running parallel to the road. The area was deserted, with not a sign of civilization in sight. Arthur followed the Miata to a right turn and down a narrow road for maybe another couple miles. Francis turned his clicker on for left and now the road turned to dirt. Arthur could see a villa through the trees, large enough to house ten people.

Francis was first to pull up since he was in front. As Arthur parked his car and started to shake the boys awake, an older woman came out of the cottage, her arms outstretched in welcome. She wore a long periwinkle blue tunic dress cinched with a leather belt and several beaded necklaces hung around her neck. Her long gray hair was tied back in a braided ponytail at the base of her neck.

She took her son in an embrace, kissing him on both cheeks before saying hello to her granddaughter. Arthur opened his car door and caught a snippet of what she was saying.

"I'm so glad you all made zit! I was afraid you would get caught up in ze weekend traffic." Her accent was much thicker than Francis' but she was understandable. She looked around and saw Arthur unclipping the boys from the backseat.

"Ah ha! Zis must be ze one I was told about!" She came over to Arthur and took him up in a big hug. She smelled heavily of rose water. "My my, so big already! When iz he due?"

Arthur sneezed from the heady perfume. "Sorry…umm I'm not sure, Madame. July perhaps?"

"Please, call me Marie. Now zen, I think you are…five months along zen? Hmm no…I think it four." She touched his belly in a knowing way, smiling like a grandmother. "I always wanted anozer grandchild…but alas my son did not remarry. Arthur, was zit? I think you will make a fine mother…yes…why just look at zes wonderful little boys!"

And with that her attention was drawn to Peter and Alfred. Peter shrank away, always shy at meeting new people until Madame Marie produced a peppermint from her pocket. Peter took it with eager hands; he loved peppermints. Madame Marie laughed heartily at his reaction and turned back to her other guests.

"Alright zen, let us get unpacked and underway! I think zis will be a Valentine's to remember!"

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Arthur didn't even have time to get his suitcase unpacked before he was attacked by his boys begging to go down to the beach and see the ocean.

"Hold on there! We just got here! The beach can wait!" Arthur objected. Alfred and Peter whined and cried, pulling on his clothes and begging.

"Please Arthur! I wanna see it!" Alfred whined.

"Me too! Me too!" Peter chimed in.

"But boys, we haven't even unpacked yet! Surely you can wait a bit while we get settled?"

Arthur was trying to get them to calm down, but Alfred and Peter would have none of it. They kept prodding him to go with them. Arthur tried to ignore them and undo his suitcase, but it was very difficult to overlook the griping of two small children. He sighed, sitting down on the bed of the guest room.

"Boys, really…I drove nearly four hours here…I'm tired…can't we go tomorrow?"

"But Arthur…"

"Oh ho, what have we here? A couple of children pestering their poor father?" Madame Marie waltzed into the room with impeccable timing. She was now wearing a floppy yellow sunhat and a dark blue kimono sleeve tunic paired with a beige floor skirt. Her hair was still in its braided ponytail.

"Madame Marie…," Arthur said, a little relieved to see her. She waved her hand at him dismissively.

"I told you before, Arthur darling, just call me Marie! Madame makes me feel so old!" She bent over, her arms supporting herself on her thighs as she looked at Alfred and Peter with a grandmother's eye. "So, I hear zat you boys have not zeen ze ocean before, eh? Well zen, I think I can fix zat."

"Hey, lady, are you going to take us instead?" Alfred asked rather rudely. Arthur frowned at him.

"Alfred, be respectful to your elders. You don't speak to your grandfather like that do you?"

Alfred looked back up at Arthur with a glower in his eye. "Of course not. Grandda would wallop me for talking like that."

Madame Marie burst out laughing at Alfred's cheekiness. "Oh ho ho ho ho! I like zis boy! He's got spunk!" She offered a hand to the boys, still smiling from ear to ear. "So my little chaperons, shall we be going?"

"Arfur, is it okay?" Peter asked doubtfully, clutching tightly to his rabbit. Arthur nodded.

"It's fine, Peter. Just as long as you two stay out of the water and are wearing your coats. It is still the middle of February you know!"

"Your father is right," Madame Marie said. "It is still cold outside. So let's get you two ready and leave poor Arthur some peace, eh?"

Madame picked up Peter and took Alfred's hand, leading him out of the room. Finally, Arthur had some quiet time! He leaned back on the bed, stretching his stiff and sore body. He lay there for a bit, staring at the ceiling and his hands on his heavy belly. The pressure of the baby had made it impossible for him to sleep on his back, so he'd gotten into the habit of sleeping on his side. Arthur gave a tired sigh. Hopefully this weekend would be a good time for him to relax and catch up on some of his sleep.

Arthur heard footsteps approaching the door and he heaved himself up, expecting to see Madame Marie returning. But no, it was Francis who came through the open door. Arthur scowled at him.

"What do you want now?" he asked sourly.

Francis didn't say anything. His face was serious, his arms crossed. "You didn't go with them?" he finally said.

"Tch, of course not! I'm tired from driving and the last thing I need is to be pulled about."

"That is too bad…you're missing an important opportunity to be with your children." Francis crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to Arthur. Arthur didn't like the close proximity of the Frenchman.

"What do you what?" he repeated. "I was going to take a nap."

"I wanted to ask you something. Do you remember when I asked you if you didn't like me?"

Arthur didn't like where this conversation was going. "…what of it?"

"I want to know why you cut yourself off. What were you going to say that night?"

"Why on earth are you bringing that up now? It doesn't matter what I was going to say!"

"It does matter!" Francis all of the sudden grabbed Arthur's wrists and pushed him up against the headboard. His eyes were dangerous. "What were you going to say?"

"L-let go of me Frog! You're hurt…ing…me…" Arthur voice trailed off as he stared into Francis' blue violet eyes. The ardor there in them was something Arthur had never seen before. He felt like his insides were melting under that gaze. He blinked and tried to regain his composure. "I..I don't have to tell you anything!"

"We shall see about that." Francis held fast to Arthur as he leaned in and kissed him hard. He forced his tongue deep into Arthur's mouth and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. His emotions were already haphazard enough and now with this kind of stimulation he couldn't resist that urge. Arthur was stunned by the kiss and to his great horror found that he didn't want it to stop. He started to return the kiss when Francis quickly pulled away.

"There!" he said. "That! What was that? If you don't like me touching and kissing you, then you wouldn't have started to return that! Or are you just so horny that anyone will do?"

Francis was throwing Arthur's words right back in his face. It was his underhanded way of getting him to talk. Well he would have none of that! Arthur bit his lip as he felt himself start to cry.

"I hate you! Y-you don't understand at all!"

"I understand perfectly well!" Francis said spitefully. "You say you hate me, you say you don't like the kissing, but then you go and pull a stunt like that! If you really hated it, you would have never let me touch you in the first place! If you really hated me, then this-," Francis put his hand on Arthur's stomach. "This, our baby, would have never come about!"

"B-but I was drunk that night…,"

"Stop using that as an excuse!" Francis was truly angry now. It was a side of him Arthur had never seen, even when they got into arguments. "I want to know; do you or do you not love me?"

Arthur was at a loss for words. Never in all the years had he known Francis had he ever seen him get this worked up over something. His lip trembled as the tears started flowing.

"F-fine! You really w-want to know?" he sobbed. "I *hic* don't hate you, okay? Maybe I do like you! Maybe I do-," Arthur cut himself off again, unable to say the word.

"Finish it," Francis said curtly. "Maybe you what?"

"I…I…*hic*ehhh….ahhhhhhhh!" Arthur couldn't finish the sentence, his hormone crazy emotions overflowing and bursting out. He sat there bawling, sniffling and hiccupping. Francis let go of his wrists and now pulled him into an embrace.

"Oh Arthur…I'm sorry. I went too far. I shouldn't have pushed you like that…shh…I'm sorry…"

Arthur just cried into Francis' shirt, just like he did the night he found out he was pregnant. He felt warm and secure sitting there and soon his sobbing started to quiet.

"You're mean, you know that?" Arthur said quietly. "You reek of cheap cologne and B.O., your fashion sense is outdated by thirty years, you can cook better than me…but I don't hate you...rather I don't think I could hate you even if I wanted to. Who would I have to argue with if you were gone?"

Francis gave him a look. "That's the best you can think of?"

"S-shut up! I'm tired, you fucking wanker! And you made me cry, _again_! What are you going to do to make up for it?"

"Hmm…how about this?" Francis swept in with all his eloquence and kissed Arthur again. He quickly got a noseful of fist from Arthur as he punched him off. He fell off the bed and onto the floor, rubbing his sore nose. Arthur wiped his mouth with his sleeve, anger on his face.

"Forget what I said before! You're nothing but a smelly old pervert! I fucking hate you!"


	8. Ch 08

When Madame Marie had returned a few hours later with the children, she immediately picked up on the awkward atmosphere between her son and Arthur. She pretended not to notice but once the children were asleep after a magnificent dinner, (so that was where Francis had learned to cook like that!) she confronted the two of them.

"Oh no, zis is no good! No good at all!" she stated, hands on her hips as she stared down Arthur sitting on the wicker sofa.

"What's no good?" Arthur asked, looking up at her with tired eyes.

"Why zis of course! You two! Did you have a fight or somezing?"

"Eh…not exactly…"

Madame clapped her hands together. "Well it does not matter! I know my son can be pig headed at times, but he is really a good boy."

"Oi Ve, Mother! Stop it!" Francis said, pretending to be embarrassed. "Arthur already knows that!"

"Oh do I?" Arthur said incredulously, crossing his arms. "If you were a good boy, I wouldn't have this."

He patted his belly and suddenly cringed a bit. "Oof…that was a hard one…"

"What's the matter?" Francis asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Arthur just shook his head. "Nothing. It just kicked me really hard, that's all. I think I'll turn in early." Arthur maneuvered himself up out if his low seat, throwing out a hand to balance himself. He nodded to Madame Marie. "If you'll excuse, Madame. Good night."

Arthur shuffle his way into the dark hallway and down to his room. Peter and Alfred were sleeping adjacent to him in the next room over. Arthur could hear Alfred's muffled snoring and Peter's little squeaks as they slept. The familiar sound comforted him as he dug out his pajamas from his suitcase.

As he straightened from pulling his trousers up, he got another hard kick from the baby. He winced from it, a hand on the sore spot where it had hit.

"Please, baby, just let me sleep tonight!" Arthur moaned. The baby responded with another kick, but it was gentler this time. Arthur crawled into the bed, rolling over on his side. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but this way his belly wasn't pressing down on his innards so bad. Arthur closed his eyes, absently rubbing his belly as he felt his tiredness taking over.

The day's events started to replay through his mind. Francis' words to him had shaken him to the core. The forced confession had gotten his brain cogs turning at a frantic pace. He hadn't realized through all the bickering and fighting that maybe he did feel something more for Francis. He certainly had a point; if Arthur really hated him as much as he always said he did, the baby growing inside him never would have come into existence.

Arthur frowned, his eyes still closed. He had asked countless times what he meant to Francis, but had never considered what Francis meant to him. Sure he was a huge pain in the ass, but he was of a reliable sort. Arthur knew that if he needed something done, Francis wouldn't hesitate to help him. Ever since their sophomore year of high school Francis had been like this. He had stuck to Arthur like the way gum sticks to the bottom of your shoe. No matter how many times you try and scrape it off, there's always some left in the tread. Maybe now, after so many years of his constant presence, Francis had embedded himself deep into Arthur's heart.

Arthur chuckled at the thought. Utter nonsense! Francis was lucky Arthur even considered him a friend, though he'd never say it to his face. But Arthur obviously liked Francis enough to let him get into his pants. How many times before then had a drunken Arthur forced himself on Francis? There were times when Arthur drank so much he couldn't remember what he'd done the night before. But if he and Francis had had sex before, Francis had kept it hush hush. Arthur had no proof though that they had done it at all save for that one time.

Arthur rolled over onto his other side and yawned. "I'm thinking too much on this…Francis is my friend…and only that. He's…he's nothing more to me."

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Arthur woke to a dark room and someone in his bed. The hairy arm was resting across his side, a hand on his belly. Arthur knew exactly who it was, but all he could do was sigh and push the arm off. He got himself into a sitting position and looked down at a sleeping Francis. The man was out cold, his mouth slightly open and his face half buried in the pillow. Some of his blonde hair had fallen across his face, obscuring what wasn't hidden by the pillow. Arthur reached down and gingerly brushed it away.

"I can't believe him…," Arthur muttered quietly to himself. "He's going too far for just my sake…and what have I done? All I do is berate him. He…deserves better than me…"

Arthur snuggled himself back down into the quilt, staring at Francis' sleeping face. His hand reached out from under the cover to push back more of Francis's hair. It paused at his cheek, always rough from his perma-stubble. A finger traced the crisp line of his stalwart chin, pausing again near his lips, touching them ever so lightly. Arthur nestled closer, his face just centimeters from Francis'. His heart was beating so fast as he continued to stare at Francis.

Arthur decided to do something he'd normally never do. He inclined the few more centimeters and casually kissed Francis on the cheek. Francis sighed in his sleep as Arthur pulled away and rolled over on his back. Arthur settled back down further into his quilt, pulling them tighter around himself. He closed his eyes, feeling tired again.

"Oh, what_ am_ I going to do with you?" he whispered.

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February seemed to pass like lightning and even March was a quick hitter. Arthur barely noticed the two months go by he'd been so busy. He'd been called twice in the past week about Alfred's behavior; picking fights, talking back and disrespecting his teacher. Arthur had talked sternly with him about this but got nowhere with it. He was coming to his wits end. With the baby due in a few more months, Arthur just didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with Alfred. He had enough problems to worry about, like getting a nursery set up and things like that.

It was now getting into April; the snow had all melted away and now flowers and trees were beginning to spring back to life. Along with this burst of new life came Arthur's own version of growing. He could not figure out for the life of him when he had gotten so huge. This sudden weight explosion had happened just like that; suddenly and unexpectedly. He had woken up one day and BAM! He was about 20 pounds heavier and now he stuck out like five or so inches.

Arthur heaved a sigh and sat down at the kitchen table. Strewn across it were envelopes, unpaid bill notices, a mess of paper receipts and a checkbook. Arthur picked up one of the bills and sighed again.

"Damn it all…," he muttered. "I don't think I've got enough to pay this month's rent…I doubt I even have enough to pay the utilities!"

Arthur threw down the paper disgusted. He didn't have anywhere else to turn to if he got evicted. There was his dad, but he didn't want him to find out about his being pregnant until after the baby was born. But it was looking like he might have to tell him if things kept going downhill. Arthur leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

"Shit…this sucks…If only I hadn't quit my job…"

"What are you doing?" Francis came into the kitchen, carrying an empty bowl. It was the leftover from one of Arthur's late night cravings.

"Umm, nothing really," Arthur said nervously trying to hide the bills. His motions didn't help and Francis saw them anyway.

"Are you trying to give yourself more stress?" he said hotly. "I told you already to let me handle this!"

"I can't help it! I'll go out of my mind if I don't make sure everything's settled. I've even been checking the time more often!"

"Darling, that's the hormones talking," Francis said, setting the dirty dishes in the sink. "You need to just relax."

"Don't you think I've tried? I can barely sleep anymore because the baby's been moving around so much! And then there's the cravings! I hate waking up in the middle of the night wanting mayonnaise and mustard sandwiches with maple syrup!"

"But I bring it to you, don't I? At least you haven't wanted to eat smoked fish with chocolate ice cream and Thai hot sauce on top."

"That is disgusting. What time is it?"

Francis checked his wristwatch. "Hmm, almost 4:30. I've got to go pick up the boys from your dad's here in a bit."

"Then I need to get dinner started," Arthur said in reply, standing up with a grunt. "Good thing I've already got the stock prepared."

"Soup? In the springtime?"

"Sure, why not? Alfred and Peter love my homemade chip beef soup." Arthur took off the lid of a large pot sitting on the stove. Billowing steam came bursting forth, encasing his head in white.

"It's reduced down almost perfectly now. I just need to add the meat." He gave it a stir and put the lid back on.

"Hey," Francis said suddenly. "Do you ever talk to it?"

Arthur looked up from the refrigerator and blinked. "What?"

"The baby, I mean. Don't you talk to it? It can hear you, you know."

"I…I do…sometimes…," Arthur replied, a bit taken aback by the question. "But all I ever get out of it is more bruises."

"Maybe that's 'cause it likes the sound of your voice. I've heard you sing to it too, about every other night. I can hear your voice through the door."

Arthur turned pink and closed the refrigerator door. "S-so what if I do? It's not like _you_ ever talk to it. I bet it doesn't even know who you are!"

"The baby knows who its papa is! Just like how it knows who its mama is. Isn't that right, little one?" Francis got up and snaked his arms under Arthur's while he stood at the stove. His broad hands caressed Arthur's baby belly in soft circles as he chortled in Arthur's ear.

"Get off me, you great lummox! I'm trying to cook here!" Arthur tried to shake the Frenchman off, but his arms just wrapped tighter.

"See? The baby knows who its papa is!" Francis said proudly. "Little one, little one, who do you like more? Mama or Papa?"

"Would you cut that out already? H-hey! What do you think you're-,"

Francis had let go of Arthur only to kneel down and lift up his shirt so his belly was bare and exposed. He nuzzled the stretched skin with his rough cheek. "Say hello to Papa, little one!"

"I…said…CUT IT OUT!" Arthur kneed Francis in the chest, knocking him backward across the floor. He angrily pulled his shirt back down just as the baby gave several kicks. Arthur winced from the pain.

"Ow…now see what you did, Frog? It was sleeping peacefully then you woke it up with that frightful voice of yours!"

Francis rubbed the sore spot on his chest. "You don't have to put it like that, you know. I was only trying to be affectionate."

"I can do without your affections quite well, thank you!" Arthur said, still angry as he turned back to his soup meat. "Shouldn't you be getting the boys right about now?"

"Yeah, yeah…but you know, you can't keep this from your father forever. Sooner or later he's going to find out about his third grandchild."

"He can know after the baby's born. That was my plan anyway. Now get out of my kitchen before I throw something at you!"


	9. Ch 09

_*Author's Quick Note: I had one person ask what Matthew would be to the other children. To answer you: He is a half sibling, since he shares the same fathers (though Arthur is his mother) as Alfred, Peter and Seychel. It's the same as if a divorced person already with children had another child with a new spouse. The new child would be a half sibling to the children of the previous marriage. Also, I made Joan of Arc Francis's previous wife. Why? Cause I could and I needed to explain her involvement a bit more. I think I changed things up a bit, so a few lines in the previous chapter are now incorrect. I'll be replacing that chapter with a revised updated one soon._

Arthur was busy sewing up some of Peter's play clothes one stormy day in May. He had managed to tear a hole in the seat of the trousers. It was after dinner; they had ordered out Chinese as a treat. The boys themselves were downstairs in the living room watching the telly with Seychel. Arthur could hear it blaring even from upstairs in his bedroom. Francis was sitting on the bed next to Arthur reading a book. It was terribly quiet in the room, the only sounds coming from the muffled TV through the closed door. Arthur looked up from his sewing and gave Francis a sideways glance.

"I thought I told you to go home," he said curtly.

Francis turned a page, not even bothering to look up. "It's raining like hell out there. I'm staying put till it lets up."

Arthur sighed, frustrated. "Fine, whatever. But do you have to sit in here and read?"

"Yes," was his only reply. Arthur gave up and let it go. He wasn't going to get much conversation out of him anyway. Francis was busy reading some book about cooking and quite frankly, Arthur always found books like that a bore. He tugged on his needle and tied off the end knot, holding up the pants to inspect the patch job.

"Well, I suppose it'll have to do. At least until I can take him out and get new ones."

"Do you know what day tomorrow is?" Francis asked out of the blue.

"Friday. Why, what's so special about tomorrow?"

Francis closed his book, looking across the room at the door. "It's the anniversary of Joan's death," he replied solemnly. "It's been nearly seven years now…"

"Oh…yeah…" Arthur had completely forgotten about that. It would explain why Francis seemed so down in the dumps the past week.

"Did I ever tell you about Joan and me?"

"Tch, only about a million times. You two were sweethearts in high school and got married as soon as you graduated. I should know; I was at the wedding after all."

"Hmm, yes…but I mean, did I ever tell you about Joan and me?"

Arthur gave him a funny look. "What's with the nostalgia all of a sudden? What do you mean?"

"Seychel…she's adopted, you know? I've told you this before, I'm sure of it. I don't care if she's not my own flesh and blood, she's still my daughter. I love her more than anything else in this world."

"Where are you going with this?" Arthur asked. Peter's clothes were still in his lap, if even you could call it a lap anymore.

Francis turned to Arthur, his eyes shining. "We had always wanted children of our own, Joan especially. She wanted nothing more than to be a mother. But she was never given that chance. Four months after we were married, we learned she couldn't have children. Poor Joan…she was devastated. But she didn't give up. So that's when we started looking into adoption."

"I've never heard you talk this much about Joan…at least not since she died," Arthur said.

Francis nodded. "I guess you could say I wanted to forget her. The memories were too painful. But I couldn't forget, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I looked at Seychel, I was reminded of Joan. When Joan held Seychel for the first time, I'd never seen her look so happy. It was like she'd found her soul's missing piece."

Francis' eyes were starting to get teary as he remembered all those long ago things. "The police said the impact didn't kill her; it was the car bursting into flames that did. When…when they found her…they…she wasn't even recognizable. Her body…she…it…it was so black and charred…but I knew. I knew it was her. I knew from the very bottom of my heart. I'd lost my Joan…my sweet Joan…" A few tears rolled down Francis' cheek as he looked down at his hands.

"I loved Joan so much…and losing her was like losing a piece of my soul. And poor Seychel…she'd lost more than just a mother."

Francis was full on crying now, the trip into the past bringing forth buried emotions. He cried into his hands, weeping like he'd just lost his wife a day ago instead of seven years. Arthur felt genuinely sorry for him. He had attended the funeral and Francis had cried just like this then. He'd been a mess for months afterward too. It might have been the hormones kicking in again, but he couldn't stand seeing Francis cry like this. It was unbearable seeing a grown man reduced to tears.

Arthur set aside his sewing and grabbed the sides of Francis' head, pulling him forward so their foreheads were touching.

"Eh, wait Arthur, what are you-"

"You're so stupid!" Arthur said. "Don't you see? Joan is gone and she left this world in a most horrible manner. But you're still here! I'm still here! We have each other to lean on, to support. Do you remember what you told me at the start of all this? No matter what happens, I'll always be there to help you."

Francis smiled and chuckled, wrapping his own arms around Arthur's midriff. "Hehehe…I never thought I'd hear you say something like that Arthur. Who would have thought you'd be the one cheering me up. You know what, Arthur? I think I can finally let Joan go."

Francis' smile got wider. "I found something more precious in this world that fills the void in my heart…It's you, Arthur. You and our baby and even your boys. I love you all."

Arthur's face went ruddy red at the comment. "D-don't be ridiculous! I was just trying to make you feel better!"

"I know and that's one of the reasons I love you. You say you hate me and even treat me like shit, but I know better. I know that deep down you like me too. Why else would you go through the trouble of trying to cheer me up?"

If Arthur's face could get redder, it did. He frowned and groaned, rolling his eyes. "Y-you're just imagining things…I only said it 'cause I couldn't stand seeing you cry like that!"

Francis only chuckled again and put his head on Arthur's belly, arms still wound around his middle. "I can hear it…I can hear our baby's heartbeat. It beats in rhythm to yours. I love you Arthur."

"Stop saying that. I know you don't mean it."

"Oh but I do. I love you. I love you, I love you, I loooove you!"

"Saying it more won't make it true!"

"I love you."

"Stop sayi-mmpf!" Arthur abruptly cut off by Francis's lips on his. He couldn't push the Frenchman off because of the awkward position he was in. So he was resigned to letting Francis just sit there and kiss him. Francis moved slightly and now his elbow was digging into Arthur's belly. The baby noticed the discomfort and kicked against the prodder. Francis released Arthur and looked down.

"Oh, the little one wants to say I love you too!" he said cheerfully.

Arthur wiped his mouth and repositioned himself on the bed. "More like it's telling you to get off. Your elbow's jabbing me and it hurts!"

"Oh, sorry 'bout that. I've noticed you're getting a little boobie too." Arthur flushed again and instinctively covered his chest. Francis quickly removed his arm and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "That reminds me…I've got something special for you. I think the children will enjoy it too."

"It had better not be another dress. I told you already I'm not going to wear those!"

"Nope, it's not that. It's a real special treat. My cousin who works at the hospital arranged for me to borrow it. I would have had it sooner but the hospital had to do a background check on me for some reason. Come downstairs. We're going to need the television."

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The children were still watching their movie. The screen glowed in various colors in the dark room, illuminating the children's faces. Alfred and Peter looked up as Arthur and Francis came in and clicked the light on.

"Didja come to watch _Sleeping Beauty_ with us?" Alfred asked. "Seychel's the one who put it in though. I wanted to watch _Robin Hood._"

Francis smiled at Alfred and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We're going to have to borrow the TV for a bit, kids. I've got a surprise for you boys. How would you like to see your new brother or sister?"

Peter cocked his head, eyes staring at Arthur's belly. "How ya gonna do that? Arfur hasn't had his baby yet."

"Yes, but I know of a way we can see _inside_ him."

"Do you have x-ray vision?" Alfred asked excitedly. "Like Superman does?"

"Not exactly, but I have something similar. So, do you want to see?"

"Yes, yes!" the boys chorused. Francis nodded, his arms crossing.

"Mhmm, thought so. So, Arthur, how about it? Want to show them?"

"I don't see how. Unless…you actually managed to get one?" Arthur went to the couch and sat down next to Seychel. He looked back up at Francis. "Is that what your cousin gave you?"

"Daddy, what's Arthur talking about?" Seychel asked.

"Hold on, hold on! I need to go get it. Just hang tight till I get back, okay?" Francis left the little sitting room and Arthur alone with the children. They started to berate him with questions.

"How can ya see inside someone if ya don't have x-ray vision?"

"Arfur, do I have a brother or a sister inside you?"

"We're not gonna hafta share a room, are we?"

"When's the baby coming?"

Arthur threw up his hands. "Oi now, not all at once! I'm tired enough as it is! The baby's not due for at least a couple more months. But there is a chance it can come early. Babies born before they're supposed to are called premature. They need a lot of special care and attention if they're going to grow up healthy."

"So, Arfur, is is, is the baby pre…pre…," Peter struggled with the long word.

"Premature, Peter. No, it's not. I'm sure we'll still have to wait the two month before we can say hello."

"Ah-ha! I have returned bearing gifts!" Francis strode into the room carrying a large white cardboard box. He set it down on the coffee table and started to open it up. "My nurse cousin was very particular about giving this to me. He wanted to know why I needed it and why I couldn't just bring my girlfriend in for a check-up."

"Girlfriend? So that's what I am now?" Arthur said indignantly. He ignored the comment about the cousin having to know why.

"Hardly, darling. You're much more than that. Ah, here we go! One portable ultrasound machine!" Francis produced from the box a long rectangular white machine with a cord coming out of one end and what looked like an electric razor attached to the other end. "Now…where did that gel go? Oh, there it is!"

Francis picked up a medium sized bottled filled with clear pasty looking goo and went over to the TV. He had to stop the VCR and switch over the AV channel as he started to hook the machine up. He set the white box on the coffee table and plugged the cords into their appropriate outlets. The machine whirred to life and an odd image appeared on the TV screen.

"Are you sure you know how to use this thing?" Arthur asked, slightly worried. Electronics and machines had never been Francis' forte; he'd always been better at cooking than anything else. Francis waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry about it. My cousin's a maternity nurse and ultrasound technician. He showed me how to use it before he gave it to me. Okay, we're all set. Arthur, lift up your shirt."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I need to put the gel on you before I can scan! Come on, it's not that bad! You're in private company right now!"

Arthur grumbled and reluctantly rolled up his shirt so his baby belly was exposed bare. He saw Peter's eyes get wide.

"Arfur, you've got a rwelly fat tummy! Fatter than the neighbor lady's beagle!"

"Yes, Peter, thank you for that," Arthur said sarcastically, but he figured the sarcasm went over the child's head. Francis opened the top of the bottle and squeezed out some of the gel onto Arthur's belly.

"Wow, geez, that stuff's cold!" Arthur flinched as Francis started rubbing it around a bit.

"Now hold still! I'm gonna start now. Kids, pay attention to the TV. Very shortly you're going to be able to see inside your daddy's tummy."

Francis put the razor looking end of the cord on Arthur's stomach, rolling the little wheels on its all over and in the gel. A minute later an image appeared on the screen colored in black and white.

"Is that it?" Alfred asked tentatively, staring hard at the screen. "Is that what it looks like on the inside?"

Arthur wasn't listening as Francis began to explain things to the boys and Seychel as well. His eyes were glued to the TV screen in amazement. As Francis rolled the tool across his belly, Arthur could see in fuzzy twitching images the baby he was carrying. He could make out its little hands and feet, even its tiny face. He felt the baby move and the image moved too, mimicking what was going on inside.

"Hey, it's making faces!" Arthur heard Alfred say.

"Well, it can hear us, after all," Francis replied. "Why don't you go say hello back?"

Peter hopped to his feet and walked over to the couch. He crawled up on it and plopped himself down next to Arthur, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"Arfur, can I say hewhoa?"

"O-of course you can. Go on. Just mind you don't touch the gel, okay?"

"Here, let me clean it off. I can always put more on later." Francis produced a towel and gently rubbed off the remaining gel from Arthur's belly. "There you go, Peter. All clean."

Peter put a nervous hand on Arthur's stomach. He withdrew it quickly when he felt something hit it. "Arfur!"

"Go on, it's okay. That's just the baby's way of saying hello."

Peter now put both his hands down. He moved them a little and his eyes widened as he felt more kicking. "Arfur, Arfur! It said hewhoa! Hewhoaaaa, baby! My name's Peter!"

"Hey, no fair! I want to feel too!" Alfred put his hands on the other side of Arthur's belly, jumping like Peter had when the baby moved.

"Whoa…that's soooo cooool! I didn't know it could do that!" Alfred looked up at Arthur. "Do we really hafta wait two more months before we can meet the baby?"

"I'm afraid so, Alfred," Arthur replied. "Don't you remember when your mother was pregnant with Peter? You asked the very same thing."

Alfred screwed up his face, trying to remember. "I don't remember that…"

Arthur laughed a bit at Alfred's face. "Well I suppose you wouldn't. You were only three when Peter was born."

The clock on the mantle bonged a crisp eight o'clock. Arthur rolled down his shirt back to its proper place and hauled himself up off the low couch. "Alright that's enough. Time for bed, boys."

Alfred and Peter of course started groaning and making complaints, but Arthur wouldn't hear any of it. He shooed them upstairs to change and brush their teeth. They went begrudgingly, grumbling the whole way up the stairs.

"I should be getting home as well," Francis said. "I've got to have Seychel over the dentist's office early tomorrow morning."

"Aww, Daddy, do I have to go?" Seychel griped. "I hate the way their toothbrush feels! And it always hurts when they clean my teeth!"

"I'm sorry dear, but you need to go. You'll thank me later in life for up keeping your dental hygenie. Would you mind waiting out in the car for me? I need to talk to Arthur in private for a bit."

"Okay…but don't be too long. I know you too well, Daddy." Seychel left the room, shaking out her blue dress as she left. Francis turned to Arthur, a smile on his face.

"So, was it a nice surprise? You seemed to like it."

Arthur shrugged it off. "It…was nice I suppose. Victoria never let me go with her to the gynecologist, so I never got to see any of her ultrasounds. I never thought the first one I'd see would be my own though."

"Hmm…yeah I guess that is a little weird." Francis took hold of Arthur's hand, squeezing it a bit. "Just a little longer…then we can greet our baby properly. I'll leave the machine here. I know you'll want some time with it alone."

Francis winked at Arthur, gave his hand another squeeze and peck him on the lips before leaving. Arthur didn't react at all to the light kiss and didn't even flinch as he heard the front door open and close. He shook his head, went upstairs and found Alfred trying to put toothpaste in his brother's hair. After a stern chiding, Arthur put his boys to bed, kissing each good night.

"Arfur, can we see the baby again sometime?" Peter asked drowsily from under his quilt.

"Of course. Now, it's time for sleeping. Good night you two. Pleasant dreams."

The boys moaned half hearted replies and snuggled down into their beds. Arthur smiled as he gently closed their door. He felt a little tired, but he was too excited to try and sleep now. He hurried back downstairs and flopped back down on the couch. Using the ultrasound machine didn't look too hard. Francis had left it turned on and the odd black and white image was still displayed on the TV. Arthur picked up the gel bottle and rolled up his shirt again. The gel was still cold as ice. Before long, the TV was displaying what Arthur wanted.

Arthur stared at the screen enraptured. He looked down and up then back down again. The image was just fuzzy enough he couldn't tell the baby's gender. But that was fine; he'd rather find out when it was born.

"Hello, little one," Arthur cooed quietly. "I can see you…and I know you can hear me. You've heard me for a few months now, right? So…what shall I name you? I don't know if you're a boy or a girl, so I guess I'd better pick names for both genders."

Arthur mused to himself, the smile on his face getting broader and broader. "If you're a girl…how about Emily? Oh no…my aunt is named that…what about Camille? Rachel? No, those won't do at all…hmm, for some reason, I just don't think you'll be a girl…"

The baby responded to Arthur's mumblings, seeming to nod its head on the ultrasound screen. Arthur cocked his head, smiling even wider.

"Oh, so you think so too huh? Well I suppose you would know, after all it is your body! Boys' names, hmm…John…Richard…Henry…James…George…Edward…none of those? Ok, let's see…how about Matthew?"

The baby gave a particularly hard kick as Arthur said the name. He almost dropped the roller the kick was so hard. Arthur put a hand on the side of his belly, wincing.

"Ow…wow I guess you really like that name, huh? So Matthew it is then! That is, if you turn out to be a boy. I still should pick a girl's name just in case."

Arthur yawned and put down the ultrasound's roller. The screen flickered and went blank again. Arthur wiped off the remaining gel, turned off the TV and machine and stood up, yawning again. He put a hand on his belly, the other on his sore back. He looked down.

"Well baby, your mother is tired. Shall we go to bed then?"


	10. Ch 10

Summer was getting into full swing now and things were beginning to heat up. With the baby due in nary a month, Francis was running around everywhere fretting like the nervous father to be he was. He was constantly checking up on Arthur, either calling every hour or coming in person to check. It was annoying the crap out of Arthur. Finally one day he sat Francis down.

"Would you just chill out already?" Arthur said curtly, crossing his arms across the top of his belly. "You're driving me nuts with all your running around! This baby's not coming for a few more weeks!"

"Yes but what if it's early? I want to be here when you go into labor!"

Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh stop it. Don't worry; you'll know when it's coming, trust me. I'll let you know. You're here almost 24/7 anyway so I don't think you'll miss anything."

"Yes, but-," Francis tried to argue again, but Arthur cut him off.

"Stop it! I don't want to hear your arguments anymore! Just…just go home and take a nap or something. _Anything_ to get you out of my hair! Alfred and Peter are enough to deal with, I don't need a _third_ child causing havoc."

Francis hung his head in defeat. "Alright, _Cherie,_ you are right. I'm overreacting. I'll go home. But you call me the instant you feel any contractions alright?"

"Yes yes, will do," Arthur half heartedly said, pushing Francis towards the front door. "Now go home!"

Arthur practically shoved Francis out the door, slamming it shut and giving a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, leaning up against the door.

"I can't deal with him some days…honestly…"

There was rapping on the other side of the door, hard and fast. Arthur angrily whipped it open, expecting to see Francis again.

"I told you already, go-go…" Arthur's sentence trailed off when he saw who was standing on his front stoop. "…D-dad…w-what are you doing here?"

Arthur's father stood there looking rather raggy in his old worn newscap. He took off his cap, showing his ever thick gray hair had been neatly combed. "I came to see if it was true. Well, boy don't just stand there! Don't let a poor old man out here to die of heatstroke!"

"Oh, uh, right, sorry…" Arthur opened the door wider to let his father come inside. The minute the door was shut, the old man rounded on him.

"I don't like hearing things second hand, Arthur," he said sternly. "Especially when it comes to my grandchildren."

"I-I was going to tell you, but…I…"

To Arthur's great surprise, his father smiled at him and started to chuckle. "Ahahaha…oh Arthur, I wish you wouldn't be so embarrassed about this! Granted, I didn't quite believe Francis when he told me, but…hell why not? With today's medical marvels, I guess even this is possible!"

The old man's Scottish was becoming more prevalent in his speech. He put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, still laughing. "Ah, this is wonderful! I always wanted you and Victoria to have more kids, but she was never really the motherly type. I'm happy to see another grandchild before I die. So, when's it due? You got a name picked out yet?"

Arthur's father was getting quite excited about the whole affair, smiling from ear to ear and chortling to himself. Arthur had never seen his father looking so happy, not even when Alfred and Peter were born.

"Dad…are you alright? Have you been taking your medications?"

"What are you talking about, of course I have! Now answer me! When is the baby due?"

"Uh…in a few more weeks. Dad, are you sure you're-,"

"I'm fine, Arthur! Now, I know I was never really the best parent in the world, even more so when your mother died. But I never gave up on you. Your brothers Ian and Rhys were always so self sufficient, practically raised themselves. But you…you were always looking for someone to cling to, someone to hold your hand. I ended up seeing that as a weakness. Arthur, I want to apologize. I hope you never thought I loved your brothers more than I loved you. Times were tough and well…"

"Dad, it's okay, really!" Arthur waved his hands dismissively. "That was years ago! I'd be lying if I said I didn't care, but well that's how things were."

Arthur's father looked at him with tired eyes. "Well, I'm happy you finally found someone who can give you the support and comfort you need. Francis is a good man."

"I-he-we-I'm not like-he's not-Dad! Really!" Arthur stumbled over the words, turning red at his father's comment. His dad just laughed again.

"I'm just teasing you! Now, where are the boys? I've got some treats for them."

"Alfred's still at school and Peter is at a play date. I sent Francis home, he was driving me up the wall!"

"Ah, I see. Well can you blame him? He's been looking tired the last few times I've seen him. Probably losing sleep worrying over you. You should treat him better."

"Dad…," Arthur groaned.

"Alright, alright, I'll drop it. But I am happy for you, truly I am. You should have more confidence in your old man!" The old man clapped both his hands on Arthur's shoulders, shaking him just a bit. "I'm your father! I'm not going to disown you or anything just because of a little thing like this!"

"You think me having a baby is a little thing?" Arthur asked with a little indignation. "Dad…I think you need to have your head checked out."

"Nonsense! You just don't understand why I'm so happy for you right now. But you will eventually. I may just be rambling here, but when you aren't there to watch your children grow up, it's a painful thing. Because one day you come home and find that what was once so small and needing of you is now all grown up. It breaks your heart."

"Dad…"

Arthur's father shook his head slowly, smiling a sad smile. "I know, don't mind me. I'm just an old fool. But not being able to see you boys grow up is the one thing I regret the most. Promise me Arthur, that no matter what, you and Francis will always be there to watch this little one grow."

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_*Author's Quick Note: Yeah, ok I'm not going into detail on how this whole mpreg thing works. I had to do A LOT of research to write this as accurately as possible. If you want to know more on this subject, there are tons of site that'll tell you all you need to know. Wikipedia is a good place to start. Most of this chapter was already pre-written, I just had to wait until I could use the material. So if parts of this sound weird, it's because of that. Oh yes, next chapter, Victoria will be making an appearance. So please look forward to that!*_

The summer heat was already seeping into the townhouse, making it absolutely sweltering. The air conditioner was broken and the landlord hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet. Arthur had flung open all the windows in a desperate attempt to cool the house off, but it was futile. The heat had settled in the last week of June and now it was the first of July.

"Good lord…why is it so hot?" Arthur panted from the couch. He had one of those hand held electric fans and it was blowing full blast.

"It's summer. It's supposed to be hot." Francis sat next to him on the loveseat, the TV channel changer in one hand. He was wearing one of those tight fitted tank tops that shows off your arms and shorts while Arthur wore a thin t-shirt and a pair of elasto-jeans.

"But it's never been this hot before!" Arthur protested. "I wish I could go out back and play in the kiddy pool with the boys…"

"Why don't you if you're that hot?"

"Are you kidding me? This baby could come any day now! The last thing I need is to go into labor outside and have to be carried inside by you. You know how humiliating that would be?"

"Hmph, seems to me you've been humiliated enough already. Just give it up." Francis stood and set the remote on the coffee table. "I'm going to make some lemonade. Would you like a glass of water while I'm up?"

"I guess…wait, why can't I have the lemonade?"

"Too much sugar. I'll get you a granola bar to go with your water too." Francis turned and walked into the kitchen. Arthur grumbled to himself as he listened to Francis pull out the pitcher and get into the fridge. It sucked not being able to eat what he wanted…he'd even been deprived of his precious tea time. Francis had made sure he didn't eat anything he wasn't supposed to.

Arthur leaned forward and reached for the remote on the coffee table. As he did, he felt a sharp cramp in his gut, like all his insides were twisting in on themselves. He recoiled back onto the couch, hands on his belly and face contorted in pain. Another cramp came swiftly as soon as the first subsided. There was only one thing this could mean.

"Oh no…oh no…okay, umm…FRANCIS!" Arthur shouted as loud as he could. His breathing was starting to become sporadic. "FRANCIS!"

"What, what?" Francis appeared on cue, half a lemon in his hand. "What's the matter?"

"Ah…I…I think…it's time…"

Francis stood there for a few seconds before it hit him. "Ah! Time, right, it's time!" He dropped the lemon like a hot potato. "Um, okay let's see here…Can you walk upstairs?"

"I…think…so…" Arthur tried to stand up, but another cramp sent him back to the couch. He moaned in pain, his face turning red from lack of air.

Francis shook his head and hefted Arthur up into his arms. He was stronger than he looked. "At this rate you'll have the baby in the living room. Come on, Arthur, you've gotta breathe! Remember the exercises? Deep breaths, in…and…out…there you go…"

Arthur was in too much pain to protest being carried. The cramps were getting worse and with it Arthur's moaning was turning into screaming. He buried his face into Francis' shoulder and screamed as another fresh wave hit. Francis hurried upstairs and into Arthur's bedroom. Still holding onto Arthur, he ripped the quilt off the bed and gently put Arthur down.

"No…not here…I'm…going to…spoil the mattress…"

"Mattresses can be replaced. You refused the hospital so this is what you get for your stubbornness." Francis ran into the bathroom and started getting hot water going. Arthur screamed again as another cramp hit, this one the worst yet. Francis ran back into the bedroom, tripping on the quilt and falling flat on his face. Another painful moan from Arthur got him hopping back to his feet.

"Hah… hah…AARRRGGGHHH…I…can feel…it coming…" Arthur was taking short halting breaths again and Francis had to remind him to breathe properly.

"That's it…okay, are you ready? You're going to have to start pushing."

"AAAAAAHHHHHH! As…as if my…screaming…didn't say I was…AAHHH!" Arthur threw his head back screaming, his hands clutching the edges of the bed. Francis had thrown a fresh sheet over Arthur and was working to remove his soiled pants.

"Alright, when I count to three, I want you to push as hard as you can. 1…2…3!"

At three, Arthur took a deep breath and pushed. He only got halfway before he let out his held breath and gasped from pain.

"That was good! Let's do it again, okay?"

"That's…easy for you…rrgh…to say!" Arthur was already breathing hard and he was really sweating (not even from the heat). He took another breath and pushed again as hard as he could. With this second attempt, he felt the baby shift downward a bit. That was a good thing, but it sent fresh waves of agony through his entire body. He screamed and collapsed into the pillows, panting.

"Come on, Arthur! You have to keep pushing!" Francis held Arthur's legs up and apart, his face completely serious.

"How do you…hah…know so much about this, eh?" Arthur asked, resettling himself.

"I took classes at the community college. I knew you'd be too embarrassed to go the hospital, so I figured it was a good investment. Now push!"

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Seychel stood at the bedroom door, her ear pressed to the wood. Alfred and Peter were sitting on the carpet behind her. They had come inside when they heard Arthur screaming from upstairs and found the master bedroom door locked. Peter had fallen asleep and Alfred was nodding off himself.

"Why won't he stop screaming? How long does it take for a baby to come anyway?" Alfred asked wearily, his head against the wall. It had been nearly six hours since Francis had taken Arthur inside and locked the door. Seychel took her ear from the door and sat down too.

"Making a baby come out is hard," she said, pulling her knees up. "It can hurt a lot for the Mommy."

Alfred yawned. "But it's been so long already! It's dark outside now! How much longer can it take?"

"Sometimes it can take more than twelve hours," Seychel replied.

"Twelve hours? That's a really long time! Is Arthur going to be screaming for twelve hours?"

"Maybe. It's hard to…hey, did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Shh! Listen!" Seychel got up and put her ear up again. "I can hear it!"

Alfred crawled across the narrow hall and put his face on the floor to look through the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet. "Hear what? I don't hear anything!"

Seychel giggled. "Silly, listen harder! You can hear it crying."

"Huh?" Alfred pressed his ear against the door just like Seychel was doing. The sound was muffled, but he could hear conversation in the room and the soft mewing of a baby.

"Come on, Arthur! That's it! Just a few more and it's all done!" he heard Francis say. Alfred heard Arthur grunt and moan again. The baby crying was getting louder. Arthur gave one last cry of pain and now the baby was wailing. There was scuffling inside the room for a few minutes then hurried footsteps approaching the door. Seychel and Alfred barely had time to get out of the way as Francis flung the door wide open.

"Hahahahaha! It's a boy! It's a boy!" His stringy blonde hair was plastered with sweat as was his face. His shirt was blood stained but he didn't seem to care. He had this wild look in his eyes. "Hehehe…a boy…a boy!"

Francis hurried downstairs, ignoring the children sitting there on the floor. Seychel hurried after her father but Alfred poked his head around the corner of the door. Arthur was propped up against the pillows, his blonde hair wet from perspiration. He had the sheets pulled up and is eyes were closed like he was asleep. As Alfred came into the room, he heard soft mumbling from Arthur's arms.

"Alfred…did you come to see him?" Arthur's voice in the quiet room made Alfred jump. Arthur was awake now, but he looked completely exhausted. His voice was hoarse but gentler than Alfred ever remembered it being. He smiled at Alfred, beckoning him forward.

"Come on, it's okay. He won't bite, I promise."

Alfred inched closer at Arthur's encouragement until he stood at the side of the bed. He could see what the thing was in Arthur's arms now. He stared at his new brother, his eyes wide.

"Alfred, say hello to your brother. This is Matthew."

"He's so little!" Alfred exclaimed. "And he's got hair!"

Little baby Matthew was rolled up tight in a blanket, his tiny face and hands the only thing showing. He was asleep at the moment, but occasionally made faces of discomfort. His head was covered in pale blonde fuzz with a single curly piece flying away. It stuck straight up in the air. Arthur laughed a bit.

"Yes, he does have hair, doesn't he? What do you think, Alfred? Do you like your new brother?"

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "I suppose so. He…he is kinda cute. But he looks more like Mr. Francis than you."

"Oh no, what's going on in here?" came Francis' voice. He walked in carrying a sleeping Peter and Seychel was close behind him. He shook his head, smiling. "Alfred, you should let him rest. He's tired from all the work he just did!"

"No, no, it's fine," Arthur said kindly. "He just wanted to say hello, that's all. But he seems to think Matthew looks more like you than me. Hahaha…that's just not true!"

"No, I think he's right love," Francis replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Just look at that hair! It's superbly wavy like mine and he's got my eyes!"

"Hmph, well I beg to differ! In case you hadn't noticed, his nose happens to be mine! And his hair color is far closer to my color than yours!"

"But babies' hair always darkens as they get older," Francis said quietly. "Thank god he didn't get your eyebrows though."

"What was that?" Arthur half shouted. Matthew frowned in his arms from the noise and started to whimper.

"Hey, knock it off you two!" Seychel said hurriedly. "Look, it doesn't matter which one of you he looks more like, you're both still his parents! Your arguing is upsetting him!"

It was true; the louder the noise level got, the more Matthew started to fuss. Francis stood up, still holding Peter.

"Alright then, everybody out! Arthur needs his rest and it's well past all of your bedtimes! Now out, out!"

Francis shooed Seychel and Alfred out of the room, waking Peter and sending him out too. He closed the door and went back to Arthur, taking his place on the edge of the bed. He leaned closer, an arm across the headboard.

"He's so adorable, _mon amie,_" he said. "Just like his mother."

"Don't start with that again," Arthur said hotly. "But yes, he is cute. He reminds me of how Alfred looked when he was born."

Matthew had fallen back asleep as soon as the shouting had all stopped. His chubby little face was freshly pink and relaxed as he slept. Arthur bounced him a bit him his arms, playing with the little hands that grasped so tightly to his fingers.

"So, what now?" Francis asked. Arthur looked up at him.

"What now? What are you going on about?"

"I'm talking about this!" Francis gestured about the room. "This townhome isn't big enough for all of us."

"All of us?"

Francis nodded. "Yes, all of us. You didn't think that after Matthew was born everything'd go back to normal, did you? Arthur…I want you to come live with me."

Arthur stared at the Frenchman, dumbfounded. "Are you serious? What about my dad? You live clear on the other side of town!"

"Then we'll pick something in between my mother's and your father's. Arthur…," Francis took hold of one of Arthur's hands and looked imploringly into his eyes. "I don't want to make the same mistakes I did with Seychel and her mother. I want to do this right. I want you and the baby and the boys to all come live with me. Please…"

Arthur swallowed, hardly believing what he was about to say next. "Francis…I…I'm flattered that you'd want to be a family together but…we're both men. It's not like we can get married or anything."

"I don't care about that." Francis was right up in Arthur's face now, the pleading in his eyes intensifying. "I just want to be a part of my son's life."

"I…I'll think about it," Arthur finally said. "I can't promise anything but…you can stay here…at least until I get things settled with the baby."

The fire from Francis' eyes vanished and was replaced with a sparkling benevolence. He took his arm from the headrest and wrapped it around Arthur, squeezing him tight. "Don't worry about a thing! I'm going to be the best father ever to our little Matthew!"


	11. Ch 11

_*Author's Quick Note: Someone asked me why Arthur had natural childbirth. Well, it's cause I'm weird and wanted it that way. Natural childbirth does occur in transgender men who still have their functioning female parts, though most doctors do a C-section just to be safe. Arthur doesn't quite have that, but this is a fanfiction Alter-Universe. I can make anything happen. ^_^ Oh and I mentioned Victoria'd appear in this chapter, but it's actually next chapter. Sorry everyone ^^;*_

It couldn't have been more than a couple months after Matthew was born that Francis brought up a strange topic over breakfast.

"I've been thinking. You never did get a proper baby shower."

Arthur looked up from his arms to give Francis a raised eyebrow and a scrutinous look. In his arms he held newborn Matthew dressed in a red and white onesie and sucking heartily on a bottle of formula. "Why should that matter? I already have most everything I need. I saved that stuff from when Alfred and Peter were babies."

Francis shook his head. "That's not what I meant, darling. I know! How about we have a welcoming party for Matthew in lieu of it? We can invite both of our families!"

"I'd rather not," Arthur replied, shifting the baby in his arms slightly. "I'm fine with your mother and my dad knowing about Matthew, but I'd prefer to leave my brothers out of the loop. Ian for one would never let me live this down."

"You don't really mean that, do you? I mean, sure Ian's not the most sensitive guy in the world but Rhys isn't that bad."

"What about that dog of his? Alfred is terrified of it! You know he had nightmares for a month the last time Rhys came for a visit?" Arthur took away Matthew's empty bottle, setting it on the table and turning the baby around so he was up over Arthur's shoulder.

"Then we'll just ask him not to bring the dog. Ooo, I can see it now! My mother can do the catering and my sister'd even come up from Monai. Oh, but we should have it at your dad's place. It's bigger than this little townhome."

Matthew gave a little belch and Arthur wiped his mouth clean. "I don't want a party, Francis. Baby showers are for the first born anyway! Matthew is number three for me!"

"Ah, but it was Victoria who had Alfred and Peter. _You,_ my darling are the one who had Matthew, so he's _your_ first born."

"Did I hear party? We're having a party? When?" Alfred and Peter entered the kitchen still dressed in their pajamas.

"We are indeed, Alfred!" Francis said with a wink and smile. "It's for your brother Matthew!"

"Aww…I thought it was for my birthday…" Alfred said with disappointment.

Arthur stood, holding Matthew up against his chest. "You had your party already, Alfred. Your birthday was two months ago. Now go get dressed! I'm not about to have you two eat breakfast in your pajamas!"

Alfred griped the whole way back up the stairs as he and Peter trudged away. Arthur rounded on Francis, a glare in his eye. "You talk like you've had this planned for a while now," he said in deadly tones.

Francis feigned innocence. "Why, Arthur I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Bull shit. I told you, I don't need a party!"

"Doesn't matter. Mattie wants the party, don't you sweetheart?" Francis reached up and pulled Matthew from Arthur's arms. As soon as his hands touched him, Matthew started screaming and bawling at the top of his lungs. Francis winced at the harsh sound.

"Aww…don't cry! Come on, won't you smile for Papa?"

Matthew's response was to scream louder. Arthur couldn't stand to see his child cry like that and took Matthew back. Instantly, the baby's wailing ceased and he went back to happy gurgling. Francis' face fell a bit.

"It's just not fair…," he said gloomily. "I was the one who delivered him and everything…so why doesn't he like me?"

"You're not his mother," Arthur said tartly, rubbing Matthew's back and rocking back and forth. "He knows who his Mummy is. And besides, he probably knows how much of a headache you can be."

"_Cherie_, you don't mean that! I love you just as much as I love Matthew!"

"Hmph. When is this damn thing anyway?"

Francis's face perked up as he broke out in a broad smile. "This afternoon, but it's supposed to be surprise. Guess I kinda ruined it huh?"

"You never were good a keeping secrets. You had this in for me ever since you found out I was pregnant, didn't you?"

"Hmm, maybe. Oh, I can't wait to show our little Matthew off! My mother for one's been dying to meet her grandson!"

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Arthur sat sulking in an armchair at his dad's place, Matthew asleep like a log in his arms. He had been drug over here by Francis a whole two hours early and he was not happy. He didn't think it necessary to have a party but Francis had it already planned out so Arthur felt it was kinda rude not to go. Alfred and Peter were playing on the carpet near him, absorbed in their game of solider play.

"Stop looking so sour," Arthur's father said from his favourite chair by the fireplace. Tobacco smoke rose in thin tendrils from his long ceramic pipe, creating a hazy atmosphere. "You should be flattered Francis went through the trouble of doing this for you."

"But I didn't want it in the first place! And Dad, put that pipe out please. I don't mind so much outside, but in here it's stifling. It's not good for Matthew or his brothers."

Arthur's father shrugged and snuffed the pipe, but the smoke haze remained. He sighed. "You know your brothers are coming right?"

"Of course I know that! If Ian says one snide word to me about Matthew, I'm gonna-,"

"Arthur, you couldn't take your brother even if you were twice his size," Arthur's father said with a crooked smile. "You know that very well."

"Hmph, I don't care. I don't want him making fun of me."

"I don't think he will, Arthur. You know how highly he thinks of Alfred and Peter. I'm sure he'll love Matthew just as much."

"I like Uncle Ian," Alfred interjected from the floor. "He talks funny!"

"I like Uncle Rhys more!" Peter chipped in. "Uncle Ian is hairy."

"More hairy than Francis?" Arthur asked with a smile. Peter nodded furiously.

"Yeah! And he wears a dress!"

"Peter, it's called a kilt," his grandfather said. "It's a tradition from Scotland. Your father's worn a kilt too."

Peter's next words were drowned out by the door bell ringing its fool head off. Alfred jumped up from the floor and went running to the front door.

"Uncle Ian! Uncle Rhys!" Arthur heard him shout.

"Oi, it's me favourite nephew!" Arthur's oldest brother's deep gruff voice was thickly accented Scottish, most like picked up from his father. He and Rhys rounded the corner and came into the sitting room. Ian was carrying Alfred up on his shoulders. He was scraggly looking as ever, his beard an unkept mess and his sandy brown hair tousled. He had actually worn pants, a pair of worn jeans and a blue soccer shirt of Glasgow's best team. He grinned when he saw Arthur sulking in his chair.

"Oh, so it's the littlest brother," he said, putting Alfred down. "Haven't seen you in a blue moon."

Arthur glared back. "Why should you? All you do is pick on me."

Ian waved his hands. "Cause you make it so easy, little brother! So, where's this baby I've heard so much about?"

"He's asleep and you would do good to keep that big mouth of yours shut. I won't have you making him cry," Arthur spat.

"Come on, let's not fight!" Rhys' quiet voice seemed to be a whisper in the room. He had the same blonde hair as Arthur, cut to his chin and the same thick eyebrows. All three of the brothers shared this trait. Rhys was wearing a dressy light green shirt and khaki slacks, giving him a much cleaner look than his older brother.

"That's right!" The brothers' father stood up, throwing his hands up into the air. "We're here to celebrate, not bicker! Arthur, would you mind greeting people at the door? Your cousin Ned (Aussie!) and his daughter (Wy-chan) are coming too, along with his brother Geoffery (NZ) and your sister Rina."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Really? Rina's coming all the way from Bermuda?"

"Yes. Francis invited his mother and his sister Catherine as well. He went to go pick up his mother then get his sister from the airport. They should be here any minute."

Ian reached out his arms, beckoning for Arthur to give him the baby. "Come on now, Arthur! I want to meet me newest nephew!"

"Hell no! I'm not giving him to _you._" Arthur snarled. "You're going to give me some guff about how I'm not a man and all that shit. Well I won't hear of it!"

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" Ian said quietly. "What's got your feathers fluffed anyway? I mean, you're not exactly the prime example of what a man should be, but I gotta give you some respect."

Arthur gave his brother a glare. "What respect? You've never given me an ounce of that to begin with."

Ian scratched his head, trying to find the words. "Well…I guess what I mean…you're stronger than me in some ways…a lot stronger than me. When Da told me the story over the phone, well frankly I just laughed. But…I don't think I could ever do what you do, little brother. I…I could never be a parent."

Arthur blinked at his brother, hardly believing the words he was hearing. It…it sounded like he was praising him! Of all the things! Ian had never done such a thing before and it was throwing Arthur for a loop. This wasn't the older brother he'd grown up with. He looked down at sleeping Matthew in his arms then back at Ian and sighed.

"Come here, Ian. I have to warn you though, he doesn't like being held by someone other than me…" Arthur gently surrendered Matthew over to his uncle. In Ian's big arms, little Matthew looked even smaller. He mumbled a bit in his sleep but didn't wake. A big grin spread across Ian's face.

"Well…would you take a gander at that… aren't you a wee little cutie? I have to admit though, he don't look too much like you, Arthur…"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Arthur said angrily.

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"My god, darling you look like death warmed over." Francis sat at the kitchen table, a cup of hot tea sitting in front of him and a plate of fresh butter croissants. Arthur walked into the kitchen holding a drowsy Matthew. His eyes were barely open and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced.

"Matthew was so fussy last night," Arthur said with a sigh. He sat down heavily in a chair next to Francis, Matthew dozing against his shoulder. At six months old, Matthew could sit up, but not much else. Arthur grabbed a croissant and nibbled on the edge. He sighed.

"It didn't seem to matter what I did, he just wouldn't go back to sleep. I finally got him quieted around five in the morning and at that point sleep was out of the question."

"Poor dear…why don't I watch the boys today while you get some sleep?" Francis suggested, picking up his teacup. "I haven't taken Peter and Alfred out in a while, and it'll be a good time to get to know my little Matthew."

"Hey, he's half mine too, I hope you know," Arthur said forcefully, but really he was keen on the idea. A nap would really help him recharge. He had forgotten how much work babies were.

"Yes, dear I know," Francis said, smiling.

Arthur shuddered slightly. "Stop calling me 'dear'. It's creeping the hell out of me." Matthew moaned and turned his head a bit. He started crying and Arthur's attention snapped to him. His voice changed drastically to a soothing tone as he shifted Matthew. "Oh…you're hungry, aren't you…? Hmm…there we go…Let's find you something to eat then."

Arthur got up, Matthew still fussing and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a container of mixed formula. He shook it a bit and frowned. "I'm going to have to go to the grocer later…Francis, come take him for a minute while I get this warmed up."

Arthur handed Matthew over to his father. The little boy's face contorted and he started wailing. Obviously he didn't like being handed over to someone strange. Francis bounced him up and down in the crook of his arm, trying to shush him.

"Aww come on now…I'm not a bad guy…be a good little boy for Papa and stop crying…"

Matthew's screams lessened a bit, but they were still grating on the ears. Arthur shook his head. "He'll be like that till you feed him. It's almost warm enough."

Francis sighed. "I just don't understand why he cries like this when I hold him. It doesn't matter what I do, all I have to do is touch him and he starts screaming! Is it something on my face?"

"Might be that beard of yours. That's enough to scare anybody." Arthur poured a bit of the warmed formula into a bottle and handed it to Francis. "Here. Feed him before he wakes the neighbors."

"I beg your pardon, but my beard is hardly the problem! My beard never scared Seychel when she was little!" Francis said, snatching the bottle from Arthur's hand. "Those were tears of joy she cried when I came to pick her up from preschool!"

"More like tears of embarrassment…If I had you for a father, I'd cry too." Francis stuck his tongue out at Arthur but he ignored it. Matthew had stopped crying temporarily to suck on his bottle, but once that was empty, he was sure to start up again. Arthur tossed down a hand towel, crossed the kitchen and called up the stairwell. "Speaking of children, where are those two boys at? Alfred! Peter! Are you two up yet?"

There were muffled moanings from the upstairs. Arthur climbed the stairs and poked his head into the boys' bedroom. Alfred and Peter were still hiding under their quilts. Arthur made a little tsk noise.

"Come on, you two! Get up! Unless you want to miss breakfast? Francis made it this morning."

Alfred's head appeared over the quilt edge. "I wanna sleep. Mattie's a noisy baby."

"And you were just as noisy if not noisier at his age. Now for the last time, get up! Peter, you too!"

Arthur whipped back the covers on Peter's bed, but Peter was not under them. In his place was a pile of clothes and pillows from the living room couch.

"Alfred, where's your brother?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Alfred rubbed a sleepy eye. "I dunno. He was here with me when we went to sleep last night." Arthur's immediate thoughts began to panic. He rushed out of the bedroom and back downstairs. Matthew had cried himself to sleep in Francis' arms. He looked up as Arthur came into the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are. Are the boys-what's the matter? You look panicked."

"Peter's not in his room," Arthur said quickly.

"What?" Francis' voice became concerned. "Did he get out of the house?"

"I don't know…oh gods, Peter…"

"Here, I'll go look for him outside," Francis said, handing Matthew back to Arthur. The baby's face didn't even twitch. Francis grabbed his overcoat. "You look here in the house. He can't have gotten too far."

Francis buttoned up his coat and went outside. Arthur could hear him calling out Peter's name. He was worried; a child of Peter's age could easily get lost out in the woods behind the townhomes. He might not have left the house…maybe he…

There was a loud THUD from above, right over Arthur's head. He looked up knowingly.

"Ah, the attic…of course!"

Arthur hurried upstairs and yanked on the cord that would drop the attic stairs. The only way Peter could have gotten into the attic was through the little crawl space in the boys' bedroom closet, because there was no way he could reach these stairs to begin. The stairs slid down smoothly and on command. Arthur settled Matthew in the crook of his arm and started climbing.

It'd been ages since he'd gone up here. It was dark and musty smelling, like attics usually were. Arthur reached up and clicked on an overhead light, flooding the cramped area with light.

"Peter? Peter, are you up here? Peter, please answer me if you are."

At first there was silence, but then Arthur noticed something moving in the corner on his right. He could see a small face peering out around the cardboard boxes.

"Peter? Is that you? Please come down…"

"NO!" Peter's little voice echoed around the room, defiant. "I'm shutaying right here!"

Arthur climbed up into the attic and walked over to where Peter was hiding. The little boy scooted further back into the box fort. Arthur knelt down and cocked his head at Peter.

"Why would you want to stay here? You had me worried, running off like that!"

"It wouldn't've mattered…," Peter mumbled. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Peter? What are you talking about? Come on, let's go back downstairs…"

"NO!" Tears started falling now. "I-I-I'm running away!"

Arthur blinked at Peter. "What? Why?"

Peter sniffed, bawling like any four year old could. "I-it's 'cause you don't l-l-love me an-an-anym-m-more! Y-you spend all y-y-your time wif Mafew an you don't play wif me or Al at all anymore! *hic* *hic* *sniff* UUWWWWAAAAAHHHHHH!"

"Oh Peter…" Arthur sighed. "Come here."

Peter, still crying, obediently walked forward. Arthur wrapped his free arm around Peter and pulled him close.

"I don't want you to ever think that I don't love you or your brother. I love you boys more than anything in this world."

Peter sniffed and looked up at Arthur. "R-rweally? You mean it?"

"Of course I do! I may seem to spend all my time with Matthew but that's because he needs my attention right now. He's only a baby and he can't look after himself without someone to help him along. There was a time when I spent all my time with you. I remember your brother getting just as jealous, though he actually made good on his threat and did run away. But he came back around lunchtime the same day. He said he was hungry."

Peter giggled a bit. His eyes were all red and puffy from the crying. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and buried his face in Arthur's jacket. "So…does that mean you're gonna play wif us?"

"Of course! I know…Peter…would you like to hold your baby brother?"

"Oh! Can I rweally? Arfur, really?" Peter's eyes grew wide in excitement.

Arthur gently put sleeping Matthew in Peter's outstretched arms. He held tightly to his brother, nervous he might drop him. Matthew's face frowned a bit and he squirmed. Peter started to get a little flustered, but Arthur quickly set him right.

"Don't hold him so tight. See? He's not going to fall. You're his big brother, you know Peter. You have to be a big boy for both him and me."

"Kay…," Peter said quietly. He was staring intently down at Matthew. He had fallen back asleep. Peter looked up at Arthur. "I'll stay…for a bit longer…but rwemember you prowmised me!"

"Alright, alright," Arthur said, taking back Matthew. He took Peter's hand and stood up. "Let's go then, Peter."

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The front door swung open, bringing with it cold air. Francis came rushing inside, shedding his coat and scarf and shutting the door behind him.

"I couldn't find him outside…Arthur did you…?"

Arthur poked his head around the corner. "Don't worry. I found him."

"Really? That's a relief…where…?"

"Mister Fwancis! Mister Fwancis!" Peter came charging around the corner and launched himself into Francis's legs. He clutched tightly at his pants, bawling his eyes out. "I-I'm s-sowrry! I didn't m-m-mean…!"

Francis knelt and swept Peter up into a tight hug. "Oh thank god you're safe! You had us worried sick! Don't ever do that again!"

Peter continued to cry into Francis' shirt, apologizing between sobs. Francis picked him up and walked into the kitchen where Arthur had sat back down. "Where was he hiding?"

"The attic. He crawled up there through the plumbing outlet in their bedroom's closet. He was just feeling left out."

"Ah I see…Well Mister Peter, seems you've had quite the adventure!"

Peter stopped crying long enough to look over at Arthur from Francis' arms. "Arfur…do I hafta call you Mummy now?"

Arthur's mouth twitched a bit. "Huh? Y-you don't if you don't want to. What gave you the idea you had to call me Mum?"

"Mister Fwancis said it. He said you're Mafew's mummy so that makes you our mummy too."

Arthur's sight pinned itself on Francis, giving him a death glare. Francis ignored it and set Peter down. "Peter, would you be a good boy and go upstairs for a bit? I need to talk to your Mama for a bit."

"Kay…" Peter clearly looked like he didn't want to leave, but he turned around and walked up the stairs. Francis swiveled on heel to look at Arthur.

"And what of you, my dear? You still look like you're about to drop dead."

Arthur glared at Francis. "I told you to stop calling me that. And when did I suddenly become 'Mummy?'"

"Why, when you had this little bundle here. Mattie, look over here at Papa!" Francis made a face but Matthew flinched, his face twisting to cry again. "Dear not again…Oh! I have something for him. I meant to give it to him this morning, but with Peter disappearing like that, I completely forgot. I'll be right back."

Francis went to the foyer and returned a moment later carrying a small stuffed polar bear. He waved it at Matthew. "Mattie! Look what Papa got for you!"

Matthew stared at the toy for a bit before giving a little squeal of delight and reaching for it. Arthur took it from Francis and put it in Matthew's chubby hands. He squeezed it tightly, murmuring happy baby talk.

"He seems to like it," Arthur noticed.

"He certainly does. I sure hope this makes him like me more."


	12. Ch 12

_*Author's Quick Note: In case you haven't figured it out yet, Victoria is basically Arthur's genderbent version or Girl!England if you want to go by country names. In this alternative universe however, she is not related to him in any way and is Peter and Alfred's mother. I know it sounds weird, but just go with me on this one, okay?_

Arthur was busy packing things in cardboard boxes and wrapping breakables in bubble wrap one Saturday afternoon in December. He had just now gotten things settled enough to start moving to a bigger place. Matthew at near a year old was getting a little too big to share a room with his brothers, even though Francis had purchased a bunk bed for the two older boys. Peter and Alfred were out in the backyard with Seychel playing in the snow. Arthur could hear them screaming through the sealed windows. As for Matthew, he was napping on his father in the living room, who was also fast asleep.

Arthur looked back at Francis snoring on the couch and his eighteen month old son sleeping just as heavily on his chest. During the first few months, Matthew hadn't liked Francis at all. He would scream and cry and fuss whenever Arthur gave him to Francis to hold or feed. It wasn't until the two of them had fallen asleep just like this that Matthew finally started to like his father. Francis wouldn't shut up about it for weeks.

Arthur picked up one of his porcelain teapots and started to wrap it up in newsprint. He was just getting to the inside when the doorbell buzzed angrily several times.

"Alright, alright I'm coming!" Arthur said, putting the pot down. He exited the kitchen and went to the front door where the bell was still ringing. He quickly opened it and found himself face to face with the last person he'd expect to see on his doorstep.

"V-Victoria…w-what are you doing here?" he said, clearly shocked.

The woman on his doorstep was none other than his ex-wife. Her long dirty blonde hair was down and draped prettily across her shoulders. Her eyes were bespeckled, but the glasses didn't hide her gorgeously large green eyes. Clutching tightly to her hand was a crabby looking two year old boy with dark auburn hair and the same green eyes as Victoria. He glared up at Arthur as Victoria began to speak.

"Oh Arthur…I'm sorry for not calling but I wasn't sure you still lived here." Her voice was taut upper crust British, without a single trace of cockney in it. "May we come in?"

Arthur was so astonished to see his ex after two years that he couldn't stop her from coming in. The boy twisted himself out of Victoria's hand and went running into the kitchen, coat still on.

"Lovino, you little brat, get your butt back in here this instant!" Victoria said curtly. The boy begrudgingly returned to the foyer. Victoria knelt down and started undoing his coat.

"Who's the kid?" Arthur asked, feeling himself getting irritated already. "No wait, don't tell me. This must be that Spanish bastard's kid, right? What were you doing, cheating on me even before Peter was born?"

Victoria finished with her son's coat and started to undo her own. "That's what I came here for, Arthur. I…leaving you was a mistake. I regret not being able to see my boys grow up, but…"

"Save it, Victoria," Arthur said brusquely. "I don't want to hear your sob stories. If you came here to beg forgiveness for your infidelity, then you came to the wrong place."

"Please, Arthur just hear me out!" Victoria grabbed his sleeve, making him stop. "Please…just…just hear me out…that's all I'm asking…"

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd always had a soft spot for those eyes of hers. "Alright fine. After all you went through the trouble of coming here, so I suppose it would be rude not to. Come to the kitchen."

"Thank you Arthur. I knew you would understand." Victoria took hold of Lovino's hand again and dragged him behind her.

"No! Mama!" he said, trying to dig his heels into the linoleum. Victoria rounded on her son, giving him a glare.

"Lovino, don't you dare make me angry, or I'll have your father spank you again!"

"NO!" the little boy shouted. He writhed and managed to escape Victoria's grasp again. He went running into the living room, his little feet pounding the carpet. Victoria put her hands on her hips.

"Fine, you little monster! But if you hurt yourself, I'm not going to feel sorry for you!" She sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, a hand rubbing her temple. "I swear…I don't know where he gets that stubborn streak from. He never acts like that around Antonio…"

"Maybe he just doesn't like you," Arthur said with a little spite. "I can relate with him."

"That was uncalled for," Victoria replied, eyes narrowing. "I am his mother, whether he likes it or not. Now then…Arthur…I regret leaving you, I truly do. I've missed you and the boys these past two years. But Antonio…well to be truthful, he was the one who pushed me to divorce you, and even more so when I found out I was pregnant with Lovino. I…I love Antonio…but I still love you too, Arthur…"

Victoria made to take Arthur's hand, but he pulled it away. His face was cloudy and he remained silent as he stared back at Victoria. She retracted her hand and continued.

"I can't stand being away from Alfred and Peter…I miss them so much…I miss you too Arthur. Would…would you consider taking me back? I'll leave Antonio and Lovino if it means I can have you back!"

Arthur slowly stood from his seat, taking care to regulate his voice as he enunciated each word. "Why on God's bloody earth would you ever think I would take you back? You broke my heart Victoria…smashed it like cheap glass and abandoned both the boys and me to run off with your lover! You can piss off for all I care! Keep your Spanish bastard and his fucking brat too!"

"Arthur…why…" Victoria's eyes started to water at Arthur's harsh words. "Why would you say something like that? I have a right to be a part of my children's lives!"

"Actually, you don't," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "Least not by law anyway. When you divorced me, you have up all visitation rights for the boys. It was right there in the papers I was all too happy to sign by then. I could have you arrested for trespassing right now if I so wished it."

He put his hands on the table and leaned in closer. "They're not your children anymore, Victoria. They're _my_ children."

Victoria sat at the other side of the table, her mouth slightly open in shock. The reality of Arthur's words quickly set in though and her pretty face now twisted in rage.

"H-how dare you!" she sputtered. "How dare you! I cannot believe the boys are better off being raised by you! What makes you think you can parent them better than their own mother?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer her when the sliding glass door to the backyard opened. Alfred stepped inside, covered in snow and looking down as he knocked his boots clean.

"Hey, Arthur do you have something we can pack the snow in? Peter wants a fort and I…," Alfred's sentence trailed off as he finally looked up and saw his mother sitting at the table. His face was distraught.

"Mama…," he said quietly, his eyes wide. "W-what are you doing here?"

Victoria smiled at her oldest son. "I came to pay a visit. How are you Alfred? Is Peter doing well too?" She stood from her chair and walked towards Alfred, but he quickly shrank away from her.

"NO! Stay away from me!" he shouted.

Victoria stopped in her tracks, her face confused. "What?"

"I said stay away! Don't come near me!" Alfred's voice was rising to higher pitches like it did when he was upset. He looked as if he were about to cry too. Victoria stared at her son, still confused.

"Alfred, really is that any way to greet your mother?" she said with scorn, taking a step closer. Alfred ran from his place on the doormat and over to where Arthur was, hiding behind his legs.

"NO! You're not my Mama!" Alfred shouted. "You left me! You left me and Peter and Daddy all behind! I hate you!"

Arthur looked down at Alfred in surprise. It was the first time in a very long while he'd called Arthur 'daddy'. Alfred must have really been upset to revert back to this state. Victoria was rooted to her spot.

"Arthur, do something!" she said impatiently. Arthur just shrugged, his arms still crossed.

"There's nothing I can do about it, Victoria. Face it; you ceased to exist in our world when you left two years ago. Alfred's reaction to you should be enough to convince you of that."

All of the sudden there was a tremendous crash from the living room and both Arthur and Victoria forgot their argument and went running.

"What in the blazes is going on in here?" Arthur demanded as he entered the room. Victoria was close behind and she looked surprised to see Francis there too. Her attention though was drawn to the two bawling children sitting on the floor by a broken flower vase. One was her own son Lovino and he was soaked from head to toe in water. The other she didn't recognize; an eighteen month old with golden hair the same color as Arthur's and a single curly flyaway.

"Francis, what the hell happened?" Arthur was still demanding.

"I don't know! I was woken up by crying and then I saw the vase was broken!"

The blonde child opened his teary eyes and saw Arthur kneeling down on the carpet. He quickly got up on his shaky baby legs and waddled over to him, arms out and still crying.

"Mama! Mama!" he bawled, running straight into Arthur's open arms. Arthur scooped him up, rocking him back and forth.

"There there…it's okay Matthew…," he cooed.

Victoria grabbed Lovino's arm and yanked him upright. The child was still crying as she slapped him across the face. He hiccupped and stopped but still looked as if he might burst into tears again.

"You little brat!" Victoria hissed. "Didn't I tell you this would happen?"

Lovino snorted and looked down at the floor. "Sowry…Mama…" Victoria was still angry, but she picked her son up and started brushing his hair with her fingers.

"Look at you! You're soaking wet! How many times have I told you to leave breakable things alone?"

"Sowry…Mama…," Lovino repeated. Victoria shook her head and looked over at Arthur holding the blonde child. She gave him an up and down look.

"Hmm…seems I'm not the only one who's been keeping things. Who does this one belong to?"

"_This one_," Francis said forcefully, putting an arm around Arthur. "Is ours. What are you doing here Victoria?"

"Yours? Don't be ridiculous! Arthur, tell me the truth! Who's his mother? Some whore you found down on the street corner?"

Arthur bristled at Victoria's comment. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, glaring back at her. "For your information, _I'm_ his mother! Matthew is my son and I am his mother!" Arthur said it proudly as he puffed out his chest. Victoria just started laughing.

"Seriously, that's the worst joke I've ever heard!"

"He's not joking," Francis said, his arm still around Arthur. Even he was getting angry with Victoria. "I doubt Arthur would joke about something like this. Arthur is Matthew's mother and I'm his father. That is the truth."

Victoria looked from Arthur to Francis, suddenly realizing that they weren't kidding around. Her face twisted in revulsion. "Ugh, that is _disgusting_! I'd never have thought you'd go for a _man_, let alone go so far as to have a kid with him! What was I then, closet cover? Forget it! I wouldn't want you back even if you paid me!"

Victoria rounded on her heels and stormed out of the living room. A couple minutes later, the front door slammed shut and Arthur heard a car peel out and take off down the street. Francis let go of Arthur only when he no longer heard the car noises.

"I really hate that bitch," he said nastily, sitting back down on the couch. "I'm glad you're rid of her."

"Yeah…but I feel kinda sorry for her kid. No wonder he looks so sour. She was like that with Alfred too. But did you see the way she looked at Matthew? It was like he wasn't even human!"

Francis shook his head. "Don't let that vulture's tongue get to you. It doesn't matter if she approves of us or our son. Our Matthew's the cutest thing to ever grace the planet!"

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"WHOOOAAAA! THIS PLACE IS HUUUUGGGEEEE!" Alfred shouted as he stared up into the foyer's high vaulted ceiling. The eight year old spun around in circles as he stared and shouted, giggling at the echo his voice made.

"Alfred, we do not shout inside the house," Arthur scolded. Holding tightly to his hand was Matthew, soon approaching his second birthday and in the other a rolling suitcase.

Alfred made a face. "But this place really is huge! Why did we get such a big place?"

"Because we needed it. Our old place wouldn't hold a family of six," Arthur replied.

"Uh-huh. WAIT! Does that mean I get my own room?"

Arthur nodded. "You and Seychel will have your own rooms. Peter still has to share with Matthew."

"SWEEEEETTT!" Alfred was shouting delightedly as he ran off towards the staircase. Matthew tugged on Arthur's hand, wanting to be let go of.

"M-Mama! W-wanna g-go!" he said in broken speech. Arthur looked down at his son.

"Oh, so you want to follow your brother?" Matthew nodded furiously, clutching tightly to his stuffed bear. Arthur couldn't help but smile at his pleading baby face and let go. "Alright, but be careful going up those stairs, okay?"

"Kay kay!" Matthew squealed and took plodding off after his half brother, the lower part of his bear dragging the ground. Arthur heard 'oomph' behind him and turned to see Francis setting down a cardboard box just inside the front door. He groaned and cracked his back.

"That's the last one out of the truck. Peter and Seychel have a couple of their things they're bringing in. Ohhhh, I'm getting old, darling. I just can't do it like I used to."

Arthur gave him a sideways glance. "You're just putting on airs. You're fit as a fiddle, you great buffoon."

Francis just smiled at the comment. "Nooo, I'm getting old. But I know what'll make me feel young again!" He hooked Arthur round the neck and gave him a flamboyant kiss on the lips. Arthur of course sputtered and pushed the Frenchman off.

"I told you to cut that out! I'm only moving in with you for Matthew's sake!"

Francis stuck out his lip. "Boo, you're no fun Arthur. Makes me wonder why I fell in love with you."

"I wonder that myself sometimes. All I do is abuse you."

"Hmm hmm, true. But I'm just a little bit masochistic."

"No, you're just a little bit sick."

"Daddy, I've got my things," came Seychel's voice as she and Peter walked through the front door. Both were carrying small bags of things. Francis pointed towards the stairs.

"Alright then. Your room dear, is the first to the left and Peter, you're sleeping in the one at the end of the hallway."

Both children gave their acknowledgement and headed towards the upstairs. As Arthur watched them go, he noticed something he hadn't before. For being only five years old, Peter was getting awfully tall (not as tall as his brother though. Alfred at eight was nearly five feet tall) and he was walking straighter. Without a doubt, Peter would grow up to be a fine young man.

"Oh ho ho, what are you staring at, hmm?" Francis asked with a sly grin. Arthur just glared at him.

"Nothing. I've been noticing how tall Peter and Alfred and even little Matthew are getting. They're all going to be taller than me, no doubt. If anyone's getting old, it's me."

Arthur sighed and walked around through the adjacent dining room on the left and into the spacious living room where the movers had deposited the appropriate furniture. Francis followed after him, shutting the front door before he went. Arthur sat down in an armchair, his head rolling on the back of the cushion.

"What am I doing having another kid at my age? And there's such a difference in age between Matthew and his brothers! I just don't know anymore…"

"What's with you all of the sudden? You're not that old to be having more children, Arthur. You shouldn't worry. Matthew will get along fine with his siblings. Seychel for one adores him." Francis sat down on the arm of Arthur's chair, stretching his arm across the back. "You know, I was thinking. Maybe we should have another-,"

"**NO,**" Arthur said forcefully, cutting him off.

Francis pouted again. "Aw come on! Just one more-,"

"**I SAID NO!**" Arthur repeated with just as much force. "One was plenty enough for me to have. How women manage to have more than one in their lifetimes, I will NEVER know."

"Women have a higher tolerance to pain," Francis said matter of factly. "It's as simple as that."

Arthur harrumphed and settled deeper into the armchair. He muttered something incoherent under his breath that made Francis look at him funny but he didn't comment on it. Suddenly there was frantic shrieking heard from upstairs and both Arthur and Francis were on their feet. Like lightning, Arthur shot up the narrow staircase to the source of the commotion. What he saw shocked him.

Alfred had his little half brother hanging by his feet atop a chair. Poor Matthew was bawling his eyes out and Peter was trying to get Alfred to put him down.

"ALFRED! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Arthur shouted.

Alfred jumped and nearly dropped Matthew. Matthew cried harder at hearing his mother's angry voice, flailing his arms and trying to squirm free. Arthur ran over to the boys, grabbed Matthew and slapped Alfred across his cheek with a heavy hand. The eight year old was knocked off his feet. Peter tugged at Arthur's shirt, talking so fast he was barely understandable.

"…'tlistentome!" Peter's words were all mushed together but Arthur ignored him, giving Alfred a harsh glare.

"Don't you EVER do that again, do you hear me?" he said, absolutely infuriated. "What on earth possessed you to hang your poor brother upside down like that?"

Alfred sat on the chair, rubbing his sore cheek. "All you do is pay attention to him!" he shouted back. "And he's not even my real brother!"

Arthur hit Alfred again, though not as hard this time. "I don't want to hear you say things like that! Alfred you know better! Matthew is just as much your brother as Peter is!"

"No he's not! He's not my brother and you're not my mom! You're not even really my dad!"

Alfred's words were like a knife to the heart. Arthur gently set Matthew back on the floor and shooed Peter and him out of the bedroom. He calmly closed the door and turned back to Alfred.

"Why do you say that Alfred? Why am I not your father?"

Alfred looked down at the floor, his eyes adverted to Arthur's gaze. "…The kids at school have been calling you nasty things…and when I try to defend you, they just throw it back in my face. It's…it's weird for you to be my dad but also to be Matthew's mom…"

Arthur sighed. "Is that was this has been all about? Is this why you started acting up when you found out you were going to have another sibling?"

"Kind of…maybe? I…I want Matthew to be my brother but…I…" Alfred's words were awkward and he clearly didn't know how to say what he felt. Arthur put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Alfred, I know this is something new for you. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, Peter or Matthew. All three of you are my precious children and each of you is special to me. When you say things like Matthew not being your brother, it hurts me. Because that means I've failed somewhere. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Alfred nodded slowly, rubbing away the wetness in his eyes. "So…so you don't mind…me calling you Arthur instead of Dad?"

"Frankly, I don't care what you call me," Arthur replied. "I just want you to know that I'll always be there for you. For all of you."

Arthur picked Alfred up and set him up on his hip. "Oof, you're getting heavy! Well, how about we have some celebratory pancakes in commemoration of our moving in, eh?"

Alfred eyes lit up and he smiled. "Can we have maple syrup with them?

Arthur smiled and headed for the door. "We can have anything you want."


	13. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

It hadn't taken long for everyone to get settled into the new house. Alfred was quite proud to have his own room now, but several times Arthur had caught him sneaking into Peter's bed to sleep. He was sure it was only a phase and Alfred would soon get over it. Peter complained that Matthew snored worse than Alfred ever did, and as for Matthew, he was happy as any two year old could be. There had been no more incidents like before, but Arthur still kept an eye on his boys. Alfred was notorious for picking fights.

Ten years passed without much notice and life had settled into a routine normalcy. Arthur had remained a homemaker to take care of his children as well as Seychel. Francis had been promoted twice in those years and now was head chef and manager of the restaurant he worked at, even planning to open a second one in the town over the way. Arthur had pretty much accepted life with Francis; there wasn't any way around it anyway.

Arthur was messing with the dryer upstairs one afternoon. For some reason, the lint trapper wouldn't come out and he was trying to pry it out.

"Fine!" he said disgustedly after four attempts. "Stay there for all I care!"

He picked up the round basket of folded clothes and turned out of the little alcove, heading for Alfred's bedroom. He took one step and his foot immediately slid out from underneath him. The basket went flying forward as Arthur fell backwards. Cursing, he lifted a leg to see what he had tripped on. His eyebrows furrowed.

"ALFRED!" he shouted as he stood. The reply was quick response from downstairs.

"What?"

Arthur picked up the culprit and walked to the loft office there upstairs. He dangled it over the balcony railing. "How many times have I told you to keep your skateboard out of the hallway? I nearly killed myself on it!"

The eighteen year old stared up at his father, a game controller in one hand and a bowl of potato chips on the corner table next to him. Alfred readjusted his glasses. "I didn't leave it there. I left it in the garage."

"Well it didn't roll up here by itself," Arthur said snippily. "Come put it away. Where are your brothers?"

Alfred shrugged as he stood and sprinted up the stairs. The boy had turned out a lot brawnier than Arthur had expected. Peter was at least a bit more of Arthur's build, but Matthew looked like he might turn out like Alfred. Alfred snatched the skateboard from his father.

"I dunno where they went. I thought Peter was drawing downstairs in the basement."

"And Matthew?"

Alfred shrugged again and turned for the stairs. "Dunno. Maybe he's with Francis. If I lost my high score again, I'm blaming you, Arthur."

"Yeah yeah, it's not like you can't get it back," Arthur replied. "Don't you have work in another hour?"

"Maybe."

"Then go get ready. You know how your boss hates you being late."

"Yeah I know!" Alfred said impatiently. "I'm the only guy there that knows how to do the job right. That's what he always says, but I think he's just saying that to keep me around."

Alfred griped as he went back downstairs. Arthur heard him walk into the kitchen and then the garage door slam shut. He shook his head and sighed. Where had he picked up that stubborn streak from? Arthur went back into the hallway and started to pick up the scatted clothes. He had barely started when he heard frantic shouting and the pounding of feet on carpet.

"Mom Mom Mom Mom-!"

Arthur rotated on a heel to see Matthew and Peter running towards him. They looked panicked.

"What's the matter you two?" he asked, standing. "Where's the fire?"

"Mom!" Matthew half shouted. The twelve year old had poor eyesight like his oldest brother. "You have to come quick!"

"Yeah yeah! Dad, it's really bad!" Peter put in. Arthur had never seen his fifteen year old look so upset.

The two boys grabbed Arthur's hands and started to pull him towards the staircase, all the while repeating 'It's really bad!'.

"Alright already! What's going on?"

"You have to see it, Mom!" Matthew said frantically. "Dad really did it this time!"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he walked down the stairs. "Oh, great. What did that idiot do this time? If he fell out of that apple tree again, I'm gonna shoot him, I swear!"

Peter shook his head. "No no, it's not that! He's in the garage!"

"W-wha…? The garage? What's he…?" Arthur was really confused now. Peter and Matthew pulled him harder through the living room, then the kitchen towards the garage door. Arthur yanked his hands away at the last moment.

"Alright you two, you're acting funny," he said suspiciously. "What's really going on?"

Matthew took on a sheepish look and his eyes shifted nervously. "Uhh…umm…well, Dad said we weren't supposed to tell you…"

"Mattie! Don't tell him!" Peter hissed. "It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Matthew turned to his step brother, the sheepish look still there. "But I don't like keeping things from Mom…even if it is mar-mmph!"

A quick hand from Peter was slapped over Matthew's mouth before he said another word. Arthur put his hands on his hips, looking back and forth at each boy. He raised an eyebrow.

"If I know Francis, there's dodgy business going on here. I am not about to have disorder in my house again!"

"No, wait Mom! It-it's not ready yet!" Matthew said quickly, grabbing his mother's hand. Arthur pulled it away.

"Matthew, don't you dare try and stop me. Your father's got something coming to him!" Arthur pushed past Peter and Matthew and opened the garage door, expecting the worst. But all he saw was his min-van parked in its space, the bay doors open and not a soul in sight, not even Alfred. Francis' Miata, however was not there. Arthur stepped down the short stairs into the garage, looking around. He turned back to his sons.

"Alright, this isn't amusing, boys."

Matthew and Peter looked just as confused as Arthur. Peter turned to his brother. "I thought you said he was here."

"He was here!" Matthew protested. "Dad said to bring Mom to the garage so he could surprise him!"

"Then where did he go?"

"I don't know! Dad! DAD!" Matthew came into the garage too, squeezing past the car to look out into the driveway. Arthur turned back for the house, muttering something about how useless Francis was when he heard Matthew shout. He looked over his shoulder to see Francis' Miata pull into the driveway and the Frenchman emerge with all his usual flamboyancy. Alfred and Seychel emerged from the sports car as well, carrying of all things, bouquets of flowers.

Francis grabbed Matthew around the neck and pulled him into a hug. "Ah, I knew I could count on you, my little boy!" he said delightedly.

"D-dad! I'm almost thirteen! I'm not little anymore!"

The Frenchman chuckled and released his son. "True true. But to your old man, you'll always be little."

Matthew blushed at the comment. "D-dad…stop it…"

Francis laughed again and spun on a heel, his arms open wide. "Ah, _moi amour!_ "

He ran up the driveway towards Arthur, surprising for a man of his age, arms still outstretched and swept him up in a giant bear hug. He even went so far as to kiss him. Arthur didn't even bat an eye at the assault; he'd lived with Francis too long to be perturbed by his nature anymore. Francis released Arthur and instead took up his hand.

"You look beautiful today, my dear!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at?"

Francis blinked at the question. "I beg your pardon?"

"All of you have been acting funny since this morning. What's going on?"

"Why, my dear! I can't believe you'd accuse me of hiding things-,"

"Cut the crap Francis and just tell me."

Francis sighed, his arms going up in defeat. "I guess I can't hide it anymore. I was hoping for a slightly more romantic setting, but I suppose this will do. Arthur, m'dear, I'd like you and the children to come with me."

Francis gently tugged on Arthur's hand and pulled him out of the garage into the sunny driveway. Seychel and Alfred were still holding the flowers. Alfred was looking very uncomfortable and awkward but Seychel was grinning from ear to ear. She was a grown woman now and living on her own not far from the house.

"Daddy, ask him now!" she said excitedly.

"Not yet, my dear," Francis replied, holding a finger to his lips. "I still want it to be a surprise."

"What a surprise?" Arthur asked. "What are you plotting? Francis, tell me!"

"Oh I will in due time. But we need a more appropriate setting. As a matter of fact…"

As if on cue, Arthur saw a sleek black Mercedes limousine round the corner and stop right in front of the house. Arthur looked from the car to Francis then back again.

"Francis…"

"All in due time, my love! Now, we go for a ride! Come!"

Francis graciously opened one of the limousine's doors and all six of them piled in. Seychel could hardly contain herself and Peter and Matthew were awful fidgety as the limousine started to drive away. The windows of the limousine were blacked out so you couldn't see where you were going. Arthur put a hand on the window, trying vainly to see though the glass.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough."

xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx==xXxXxXx

They were driving for maybe an hour and a half by Arthur's take. The entire trip, the cabin was silent, save for Arthur's repeated question of where they were going. He could swear Seychel was going to explode from keeping the secret. He'd never seen her this excited before. Alfred was brooding next to him, his arms crossed and slouched in the seat.

At last Arthur felt the car slow and then stop. Francis sat up in his seat and smiled.

"We're here."

As everyone got out, Arthur found himself looking at something he hadn't seen in nearly thirty years. He looked up in amazement at the old now abandoned building.

"What the- Francis? What's this all about?"

Francis put his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time, _Cherie. _Do you remember?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder at the Frenchman. "Remember what?"

Francis smiled at him again. "This is where we first met, all those years ago. I was a sophomore, you a freshman. Do you remember what you said to me?"

"I believe it was something along the lines of get lost," Arthur replied. "Where are you going with this?"

"Look at us now," Francis continued. "Unlikely friends. Turned lover, turned parents. Arthur…"

Francis walked around and took both of Arthur's hands. "Arthur darling, I have something very important I must ask you. However you answer me, it will never change how I feel." He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Arthur's eyes got wide when he saw it.

"O-oh no! Y-you can't! Francis, you can't!" He started to blush furiously as Francis got down on one knee there in the grass. Seychel started to giggle, Alfred rolled his eyes and the other two boys were staring wide eyed.

"Arthur…will you marry me?"

Arthur blushed even harder and covered his face up. He swallowed and looked through his fingers, tears forming in his eyes. He sniffed and put his hands over his heart. "…you idiot…why didn't you ask me sooner?"

"Eh? You mean-?"

"Idiot! Stupid head! Moron!" Arthur yelled. "You lived with me for ten years and finally now got the balls to ask me? Daft fool!"

Francis' smile broke out in a huge grin. He leapt to his feet and grabbed Arthur, squeezing him into a tight hug. "Oh, Arthur! You've just made me the happiest man on earth!"

"H-hey! Not so tight, you're gonna-!"

Arthur and Francis were tackled on all sides by their children. Even Alfred joined in. The family of six all fell into the grass, laughing and smiling. Arthur couldn't remember a time in the past ten years where they all had laughed together like this. Leave it to Francis to come up with an idea to bring everything back together.

Matthew rolled onto his butt and sat up, brushing leaves out of his blonde hair. "Now we all can be a real family at last!"

"Silly Mattie!" Peter retorted. "We've _been_ a real family!"

Arthur looked around from the ground at his children; _all_ of his children. He smiled at them all. "Yes. We're a family."

"That's right!" Francis said, sitting up as well. "Alfred, Seychel, Peter, Matthew…Arthur and myself…all of us. We're a family, and no golden ring or biased person can ever say otherwise."


End file.
